


My True Love Gave To Me

by callistawolf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Christmas, F/M, Historical References, Inspired by a Movie, Murder Mystery, Past Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callistawolf/pseuds/callistawolf
Summary: Folks who live in the tiny town of Starling have been saying Verdant House has been haunted for years, ever since the Christmas of 1921 when Oliver Queen was found dead in the woods just outside the inn. In 2016, Felicity has come to stay for the holidays and she finds the whole concept of ghosts to be simply ludicrous. She's not going to be scared off by some silly ghost story. But then, she realizes that something very real is going on at Verdant House...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Olicity fans! I've been killing myself the last week trying to get this story ready in time for Christmas. I didn't *quite* succeed... I'm within ONE chapter of finishing. So what I am going to do is post the first 5 chapters on Christmas Eve, the next 4 chapters on Christmas Day, and I aim to have the last chapter completed and posted on Tuesday. Sound good? 
> 
> I want to thank bushlaboo, NoDecaff4Me, latinasmoak, lunarsilverwolfstar, nvwhovian and lexiblackbriar for all their help and encouragement with this fic! You guys are the best!
> 
> This fic is based off the Lifetime Christmas movie, "The Spirit of Christmas". You can find it on Netflix, if you wish to watch it. It's a great story and it made me think of Olicity right away!

_December 24, 1921_

It was late, Oliver knew. The last time he checked his pocket watch, passed down to him from his grandfather, it was an hour until midnight and it had to have been nearly an hour since then. He tried to quicken his pace but it was difficult in the knee deep snow. 

His boots filled with snow, the cold wetness dampening the bottoms of his trousers as he trudged through the woods skirting the property around Verdant House. His hat had fallen off his head a few miles back but he hadn’t bothered to replace it. The hem of his long wool coat dragged in the snow. He would be dry and warm soon, as soon as he made it home. 

_Back to Laurel, like he’d promised._

He’d been gone too long. Two weeks hadn’t sounded like much but with each day that had gone by, his heart had tugged him home more and more. Leaving Starling had been the wrong thing to do. He knew that now. Money or no money. But he was righting that wrong right now. And he promised, once he made it home, he was never leaving again. Never leaving _her_ again.

Up ahead, he could hear some faint sounds and he paused, straining his ears. It was music… sounded like his upright piano, actually. A Christmas carol, by the sound of it. He smiled and continued forward. Soon, the brightly lit windows of Verdant House came into view, beckoning him through the dark cold night. He could see figures moving beyond the windows. It looked like his sister and Laurel had kept the annual tradition of hosting the Christmas Eve dance at Verdant House in his absence and he was glad for it. The dance was the perfect holiday celebration and tonight, he felt he had a lot to celebrate. He was back home, soon to be in Laurel’s arms again as he’d promised her, and he had the money to save Verdant House resting in the pocket of his wool overcoat. 

Oliver came to a stop when he saw the door to the back porch open and a figure step out into the cold, wrapped in a shawl. It was Laurel. His heart leapt and he wanted to call out to her. But he noticed something that stilled his voice. She was… crying. Or at the very least, deeply upset. Her arms were hugged around herself and her face was turned down. He wondered what had happened to make her feel this way, if someone had said or done something to upset her. Oliver saw his sister come out right behind her, pulling the door shut. 

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, their voices were stolen away by the cold crisp air. So he stood and watched them intently. Was this his fault, he wondered? Was Laurel upset because she thought he hadn’t kept his promise? But he was here! He’d made it, just in time, too! He watched as Thea hugged her and lead her back into the house and Oliver started after them, anxious to remove that heartbroken expression from Laurel’s beautiful face. She would be so _happy_ to see him. He knew it.

But he never made it to the back steps of Verdant House. No sooner had he taken a step but he was stopped in his tracks. He didn’t hear or see what had happened. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and then he was falling, falling… back into the deep, wet snow and sinking down into blackness. 

***

_December 10, 2016_

Felicity Smoak sat across from her boyfriend of six months, Billy Malone. They were at one of Central City’s trendier restaurants, where they’d just had a lovely meal together. Billy had been planning this date for weeks now, excited about it. But the last few days, he’d been more withdrawn than usual and tonight, he seemed to be a bundle of nerves. Felicity’s own nerves were on edge as a result. Billy toyed with his fork and picked at his half eaten cheesecake distractedly. 

It wasn’t like him to act like this. Part of what had drawn her to him in the first place was how easy and uncomplicated he made things. Her professional life didn’t leave a lot of time for dating, but it was still nice to have someone to go do couple-y things with from time to time. Billy was fun and sweet and had never pressed her for more. He was fine to come over to watch a movie on Netflix or go jogging at the park together on the weekends or whatever fit her schedule. It was _nice_. 

Which was why she was now feeling nervous. He was acting just like Cooper had, like Barry had… like all the men she’d dated before. Whenever they wanted to get serious, they’d act nervous and shifty and she’d have to think of a way to let them down easy without hurting their feelings. Her stomach twisted, thinking she’d have to do that with Billy. He was such a sweet guy, she really hated the thought of hurting him. 

It’s not like it was _his_ fault. 

She drained the rest of her Chardonnay and signaled the waiter for a refill. Billy watched the waiter walk away and then cleared his throat. Felicity fought the urge to cringe. Here it came… 

“Felicity, I think we need to talk,” he said, folding his napkin and setting it on the table next to his plate. On it was his half-finished slice of cheesecake. She’d finished hers already, it had been magnificent. She was a sucker for tasty desserts. 

“What about?” she asked, hoping to sound casual. 

“About us. I just…” He paused and she held her breath. “I don’t think it’s working.”

Felicity blew out the breath she’d been holding and felt… relief. Billy watched her, his soft eyes concerned, clearly misreading her relief as upset. 

“I want to be a bigger presence in your life and lately I feel like I’m—“

“Sharing me?” she finished for him. 

He looked startled but nodded. “Yes. With your job.”

Felicity nodded. “I know. I get that a lot.”

His brow furrowed then and she realized what she’d said sounded like. 

“No, no. I didn’t mean— I just mean that all my boyfriends in the past have said the same thing. That they feel like they don’t have all of me. It’s a pretty common refrain in my breakups, actually.”

“Wait… you’ve broken up before because your boyfriend felt like he was second fiddle?” 

“Yes. Every breakup I’ve had since college, actually,” she admitted. She leaned forward in her chair picking up her fork. She gestured at his cheesecake. “Are you going to finish this?”

“N-no,” he said, still sounding a bit off. Felicity helped herself to a bite. Mmm… to die for. “Wait, what did you think I was going to say? Because right now you look… pretty okay. But when I said we needed to talk, you looked almost upset. I don’t get it.”

“I thought you were going to propose or suggest we move in together,” she admitted. 

Now, Billy looked hurt and Felicity cringed. 

“I’m sorry, Billy. I just… I’m not good at this.”

“I thought we had something special, Felicity,” he told her. 

“I know. I had a lot of fun with you and I really _like_ you. I wish we could just… keep seeing each other but I’ve learned the hard way to respect when guys want to move on.”

“But I don’t want to move on,” he insisted. “I want you to be all in on this relationship with me. Instead, you’re always cancelling dates to deal with some crisis at work and taking calls and texts and emails while we’re supposed to be spending time together. I can’t have a relationship like that, Felicity.”

She sighed. “I know. And I respect that. I’m really sorry, Billy. I wish I could promise you more. I wish I could tell you that I’ll be the perfect girlfriend. But we both know by now that I don’t work like that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be breaking up with me right now.”

Billy’s shoulders slumped with defeat. Felicity knew that he’d been hoping his declaration might make her promise to do better. But it wasn’t going to happen and the last thing she wanted to do was give this guy any false hope. He was young, and cute… an up and coming detective with the Central City police department, with soft brown hair and a cute beard and the warmest eyes… any girl would be lucky to have him fall in love with her. Any girl but _her_ , obviously. 

“You deserve someone better,” she told him. She was damaged goods. Broken. Incapable of love. All she was good for was a casual date or two. Next time, she’d have to make extra sure whomever she saw was temporary. No more than a few dates in a row. 

“I wanted _you_ ,” he replied, his eyes sad on hers. 

“I can’t make you happy, Billy.” She wished she could. She wished she didn’t feel like this.

“You mean you won’t try,” he said, sounding accusatory. Felicity sighed. She’d actually been waiting for his anger to show up. He’d kept his patience longer than Cooper had. 

“No, I mean I _can’t_. You remember what I told you when we started seeing each other, right?” She reached out to take his hand where it lay on the table between them but he snatched it back before she could touch him. She tried not to let that hurt her as she drew back.

The fire went out of him as he recalled. “Yeah. You told me not to get attached, that you weren’t interested in a long-term commitment.”

Felicity smiled a little sadly. “I meant it. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late,” he muttered. 

“You’re a good guy. I wish I could be the right girl for you, but I’m not,” she said. 

Billy seemed to get it now. He nodded but kept his eyes averted from hers. He reached into his wallet pulled out a few bills, throwing them down on the table. 

“I wish you could, too,” he said as he got to his feet. Felicity stood up and reached for him, to hug him but he stepped away, raising a hand to ward her off. “Better not.”

Felicity nodded and dropped her arms. 

“I’ll see you around, Felicity.”

“Bye, Billy.”

She watched with sad eyes as he walked through the restaurant towards the exit. His shoulders were stiff and he didn’t turn back to look at her, not even once. 

As much as she wished she hadn’t broken his heart, she was glad that he hadn’t proposed. Cooper had and turning him down had been absolutely _miserable_. Barry had asked her to move in with him, and that had been bad enough. As she bent to collect her jacket and purse, Felicity mused that maybe dating wasn’t a great idea. Even if only for a couple dates. It always seemed to end the same way, with someone being hurt. Being lonely was terrible, but she couldn’t keep doing this. 

Alone, she walked to the front of the restaurant to ask the hostess to call her a cab. 

***

_December 11, 2016_

“What are you still doing here?” 

Felicity looked up sharply from her computer screen to see her boss, Ray Palmer, filling the doorway to her office. The young and handsome thirty-something man looked genuinely surprised to see her still there. 

“What do you mean? I’m working up the proposal for that big merger meeting on the 26 th ,” she said. 

“And I appreciate that, Felicity, but… it’s almost 8 o’clock. Your assistant has gone home. Almost _everyone_ has gone home. Even _I’m_ going home and I’m the designated workaholic here,” Ray pointed out. 

Felicity blinked and looked at the clock on her desk. It read 7:51pm, which surprised her. She could have sworn it was 5:15 just ten minutes ago. That was when Gerry, her EA, had told her he was leaving for the night. She’d promised him that she was right behind him. He’d been giving her a hard time lately about not taking care of herself, skipping meals, staying too late. Such a nosey guy. He was in charge of her business life, not her personal life and she’d have to remind him of that the next time she saw him.

“Whoops,” she murmured. 

“Yeah… _whoops_ ,” Ray said good-naturedly. “Don’t you think it’s time to call it a day, Felicity?”

She shrugged. “I got into a groove with this proposal. And before that, there was some coding on the new smart wearable line that just needed my attention. And before that—“

Ray held up a hand. “Okay, let me stop you right there. I get the picture.” He sat in the seat in front of her desk and Felicity felt a sinking in her stomach at the earnest expression on his face. “Felicity, you’re working too hard.”

“As my boss, I would have thought you’d like me working hard,” she said, smiling cheekily. 

“Normally, I’d say yes. But what I’m seeing is a woman who is working herself to death,” Ray said. “I heard you broke up with Billy.”

Her mouth fell open. “What? How??” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her thick framed glasses.

He shrugged. “Word gets around.”

“ _Gerry_ ,” Felicity muttered. She’d told her executive assistant about her breakup that morning, but only because he’d asked how her date the night before had gone. She really should have told him it was none of his business.

“You know all the EAs talk,” Ray said with a shrug and a grin. “But the point is… I think you’re working so late to take your mind off of that breakup.” 

Felicity wanted to assure Ray that she wasn’t terribly upset about breaking up with Billy. Because she wasn’t. Almost surprisingly so. But she had a feeling that telling him _that_ would open up another can of worms about her own lack of emotional attachments. And that’s just not a conversation she ever wanted to have with her _boss,_ friendly as she was with him. 

“Well, mostly… I just wanted to get all this work done…” she said, trailing off and feeling a little awkward. She really didn’t want to tell him that the real reason she didn’t want to go home was that it was so empty and lonely there. 

Maybe she needed to get a cat. 

“When’s the last time you took a vacation?” Ray asked gently. 

Felicity opened her mouth to answer when she realized she didn’t _have_ an answer. Moreover, she suspected that Ray _did_. 

“I… don’t know,” she said. 

“You’ve never taken a vacation,” Ray told her. “I asked down to HR earlier and apparently in the five years you’ve worked here, you’ve not taken a single vacation day.”

“I took three days last February,” Felicity corrected him, suddenly remembering. 

“Three days because you had the flu doesn’t count,” he said. 

“So what are you saying?” She felt nervous about where this conversation was headed.

“I’m saying you’re taking a vacation. Leaving the office, preferably leaving _town_. I don’t want to see you in the office for the next two weeks.”

“But… Why? And where would I go?”

“You could go anywhere you wanted,” Ray suggested. 

“There isn’t anywhere I want to go,” Felicity answered. “Besides work.” 

“Or you could go visit your mother. I know for a fact she calls you all the time asking you to visit.”

Felicity wrinkled her nose. She wanted to ask him how he knew so much about her personal life but she remembered all the times she’d babbled to him over drinks after work or during late night planning sessions in his office. They were actually pretty good friends, once you got past the whole boss/employee thing. Ray was a bit of a dork, but then, so was she. And there was no risk of him falling in love with her; he was blissfully engaged to his fiancée, Anna. But honestly, Felicity thought maybe he knew _too much_ about her.

Really, this was becoming a good argument for _not_ being friends with your boss. 

“My mother, Ray?Really?” she said. “You’ve heard me talk about her. You know I don’t really have a relationship with her.”

“Yes, but I also know that she asks you constantly to come see her in Starling since she moved there and you never have. She’s your mother, Felicity, she wants to spend time with you.”

“Ugh, is this a guilt trip?”

“I don’t know, is it working?” he asked, flashing her a charming smile. 

Felicity sighed. Damned man. “I can’t talk you out of this?” she asked. 

“Nope. You need a vacation and your mom wants to see you. Seems a great solution to two problems.”

“Okay, but what about the big merger meeting on the 26 th ?” she asked. “We’ve been working on this deal with Wayne Tech for the better part of a year. I can’t just leave it.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely need you back for that,” Ray said. “Yeah, the way I figure it, if you spend the next two weeks out of the office, you’ll be all refreshed and ready to be brilliant for the meeting.”

Felicity smirked. “So you have an ulterior motive for wanting me gone.”

“You got me. But I also want you to go see your mom because I’m your friend and I care about you. You need some _you_ time.”

“Fine… have it your way,” she grumbled, realizing she’d lost this battle. “But you promise to call me if you need _anything_ between now and then?”

“You really think I’d let you out of this whole vacation thing that easy?” he asked. “Call you up and beg you to come back at a moment’s notice?”

“Maybe?” she said, giving him her most charming grin. 

Ray eyed her skeptically. “I’ll tell you what. If anything comes up _specific to the merger_ , I will call you in.”

“But… what about the—“

“Felicity.”

“Fine.” She could admit he had her cornered. But she could also absolutely sulk about it too.

Ray left her office soon after that, but told her that he’d let the overnight security guards know to kick her out if she didn’t leave right after him. 

“Man, he plays hardball,” she muttered to herself as she gathered her things and shut down her work station. “That’s probably how he got to be a billionaire.”

Five minutes later, she was riding the elevator down to the lobby. She pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed up her mother. 

“Felicity? Oh my god, baby, is that really you?” her mother excited voice cried after the call connected. 

“Mom, I do call you.”

“Once or twice a month!” Donna Smoak said, the censure in her voice clear. “And never on a weeknight like this.”

Felicity sighed. The elevator doors opened and she stepped out, waving at the night guards on her way past the desk towards the parking garage. “I’m sorry, Mom. I promise I’ll call you more often.”

“So to what do I owe this call?” she asked. “Is there something you need me for?”

Their relationship might be rough, had been rough ever since she was a little kid, but Felicity knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she ever needed her mother for anything, all she had to do was call and Donna would come directly to her. 

“Actually, I was thinking I’d come and see you,” Felicity said, walking directly to her SUV and letting herself in. She tossed her purse on the passenger seat, started the engine and engaged the hands-free feature so she could talk while she drove. 

Donna’s shriek echoed through the car’s speaker system. “Really, baby?? Here in Starling??”

Felicity couldn’t help but grin as she pulled out of the garage. At least the streets were fairly empty this time of night. “Yes, there in Starling. You’ve been there for four years, it’s about time I came to see your place.” 

Her mother owned and operated a pub in the small town north of here. It was near the Canadian border and, from the pictures her mother posted regularly on Facebook, very quaint and picturesque. Felicity didn’t really have any good excuse for why she hadn’t been yet, besides being busy with work. The guilt she felt for that gnawed at her a little. 

“Oh, sweetie, I would love to have you up here. You can help me out in the pub and we’ll celebrate Hanukkah together…”

“Mom, I have to be back at work on the 26 th . Hanukkah doesn’t start until the 24 th .”

“Oh. Well, you’ll be there the first night at least, right? That’s something. And the time until then too!”

“Yes, I will. I’ll be driving up tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t wait to see you, baby,” her mother gushed. 

“I can’t wait either,” Felicity replied, hoping that by tomorrow morning, that would feel true. 

***

_December 12, 2016_

Felicity steered her SUV through the snowy streets of Starling. She decided that her mother’s pictures hadn’t done the place justice. Covered under a fresh blanket of snow, with more gently falling from the leaden skies, she decided it looked like a scene out of a post card. A gingerbread looking church boasted a nativity out front, all the quaint homes were decorated for the holidays, and the main street was decked out in Christmas lights and pine boughs. Residents walked the sidewalks, visiting various shops and calling out greetings to one another. 

It was a far cry from the urban streets of Central City. 

Her heart started to lighten for the first time since she’d left her townhouse earlier that morning. It was a long five hour drive up north to Starling and Felicity wasn’t a huge fan of car trips. That was probably a big reason why she hadn’t made the trip since her mother moved up here from Vegas. But there was literally no other way she knew to get to the tiny town. Maybe the train but who took the _train_ anywhere anymore? Her SUV had all wheel drive and traction control so Felicity wasn’t the least bit worried about driving it in the snow. She just hated the long, boring drive. Music on her cell phone and a much needed stop for coffee halfway had made it a little less dreary.

Felicity found the Starling Showgirl Pub at the end of Main Street and pulled her SUV into the small lot at the rear of the building. It was a two story wooden structure that looked like something out of the turn of the century. Much like the rest of town, actually. How had her mother even _heard_ of this place? 

She left her bag in the car for now, not wanting her arms full when her mother invariably launched herself at her on first sight. Instead, she grabbed her purse, locked the doors and headed around to the front entrance. She grinned at the big pink flashy sign. 

“You can take the girl out of Vegas, but you can’t take the Vegas out of the girl,” she murmured fondly. 

The smile slipped off her lips when she saw the hand printed sign on the door to the pub. 

**CLOSED DUE TO FLOODING**

Her brow furrowed. Her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about that last night during their phone call. She tried to peer through the window to see what was going on when she heard a high pitched scream. 

“Felicity!!!” 

She jumped back and looked up at where the voice had come from. Leaning out the second story window was her mother’s blonde head. And her hand, which was waving furiously. 

“Hey mom!” she called. “What’s up with the sign!” 

“I’ll explain everything,” she said. “Come on up, the stairs are on the side, back by the parking lot.”

Felicity walked back around the building, dodging piles of snow where the shovel had missed. There was a wooden staircase leading up to a door on the second level. Her mother stood in the doorway, waving and smiling bright enough to light through the gloom of the early afternoon.

She climbed the stairs and was immediately engulfed into a big hug. Her mother bounced in her arms, squealing in her ear. 

Felicity hugged her back but then said, “Can we take this inside? I’m freezing out here.”

“Oh!” Donna immediately released her. “I’m sorry, baby, I was just so happy to see you.” She pulled her inside and immediately embraced her again. 

“Why is your pub closed?” Felicity asked as her mother rocked her in her arms. 

“Oh, a pipe burst when it froze last night. It’s all nasty in there and I need someone to come in and clean it up but it’s going to be a few days. Might not even be ready to reopen before Christmas, at this rate. Everyone’s so busy over the holidays.”

“Bummer…” Her mother was _still_ hugging her.

“Mom! I want to see your place but I can’t with your hair in my face!” Felicity laughed. 

Donna finally let her go and stepped back. She grinned and waved her hands out to indicate the room. Felicity got her first good look at where her mother lived. 

It was small and cozy but decorated in her mother’s flashy and colorful taste. Every square inch was used and used well. It reminded Felicity a bit of the double-wide they’d shared when her dad had first left them, when Felicity was just seven years old. It hadn’t been much, but her mom had made it feel as homey as she could. Felicity felt a twinge of homesickness for that old dumpy place… the first she’d thought of it in years.

“It’s great, Mom,” she said, turning around. There was the living area which opened into a small kitchen and nook area for eating. There were two doors off the room, besides the door out onto the stairs. 

“That’s the bathroom,” Donna said, pointing to the door on the left, “and that one’s my bedroom.”

Felicity’s heart sank a little. “It’s not very big,” she admitted. 

“It’s big enough for lil’ ol’ me.”

“What about lil’ ol’ me too?” Felicity asked, her heart sinking. 

“Oh…” Donna said. She looked around and then smiled at Felicity. “The sofa folds out into a bed. You’re obviously welcome to it. We can share the bathroom. It’ll be like old times.”

That sense of nostalgia Felicity had just been feeling vanished like fog in the wind. Being crammed in with her mother had come with _plenty_ of downsides, she recalled. Plus, Felicity had had over ten years to get used to living on her own. For two weeks… she just wasn’t sure she could manage _this_ tight of quarters with her mother. She hadn’t spent more than two days with her (in separate bathrooms, mind you) in over four years. 

“It’s okay, I appreciate the hospitality and all but… I can stay at a hotel or something,” Felicity suggested hopefully. 

“Oh dear,” her mother said. “There’s only the one inn in town, Verdant House, and they close today for the holidays.”

Felicity blinked. “Seriously? But isn’t this a great time to be open though? Lots of tourists passing through and spending the holiday in town?”

Donna shrugged. “My friend Quentin runs the place for the family that owns it. Every year, he insists on closing December 12 th and won’t open until the 25 th at the earliest.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Felicity said, her mind racing. There had to be a way to get the guy to let her stay there. It wasn’t like he’d have to open the whole place up, just let her stay in a room. “You said the guy who runs it is your friend? You think he’d let me stay there?”

Donna worried her lip with her teeth. Her hair was just as platinum blonde as ever, her makeup still overdone and exaggerating her aqua eyes. Even in casual wear, Donna Smoak looked like she’d just stepped off the Vegas strip in her skinny jeans, sequined blouse and faux-fur vest. Felicity had never known her mother to look anything but absolutely pulled together. 

“I don’t know, honey. I mean we _flirt_ a little, but he’s pretty strict about that inn.”

“Why don’t we go over there. Won’t know till we ask, right?” She smiled cheerfully and her mother smiled back, but looked far less certain. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him, I suppose…” she said slowly. 

“Great! Grab your coat. You can direct me where to go.”

Donna plucked a big fur-trimmed coat off the hook by the door and then looked back at Felicity with serious eyes. “Are you absolutely sure, baby?There’s rumors there’s a ghost there. The two of us can fit in here just fine, I think—”

Felicity raised her eyebrows. “Ghosts? Are you kidding me?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Verdant House is always profiled in magazines at tv shows and Starling is just wild about our haunted inn. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. The town is kinda famous for it, actually.”

Felicity took a deep breath and counted to ten, praying for patience. Her mother was a wonderful woman but she was absolutely prone to flights of fancy and apparently that was still just as true as it’d been when Felicity was a child. “I’m sure it’s fine, Mom. Probably just a story to lure in tourists.”

“I don’t know…” Donna looked thoroughly unconvinced.

“C’mon,” Felicity said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door. “Let’s go over there and see. Besides, you’ve got me all excited to see this haunted inn now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity spends her first night at Verdant House and is in for quite the surprise.

_December 12, 2016_

Felicity followed her mother’s directions carefully and they lead her to a narrow country lane, far back in the woods that surrounded the tiny town. Finally, up ahead, she saw a great iron gate with a lot of fancy scrollwork and Edwardian detail. A low brick wall ran the boundary of the property. Tire tracks were set into the snow, leading her past the gate and towards the house itself. 

It was _enormous_ , and like something out of a fairy tale. 

If she’d thought the charming church on the outskirts of Starling had been gingerbread and quaint, it had nothing on the impressive Victorian handiwork of this place. It looked to be at least two stories tall, most likely including a cellar. There was a rounded turret on one corner of the house, with windows wrapping around the third story of it as it stood proud above the peaked dormers of the rest of the roof. A porch wrapped clear around the home, wide and set up a small flight of steps from the ground. Wreathes hung in every window and while it was still daylight, Felicity could see Christmas lights hanging from every eave. 

“Wow,” she breathed as she pulled to a stop next to a truck and a small sedan. 

“Isn’t it breathtaking?” her mother asked. “Belongs to the Queen family, though none of them have lived in Starling for years, from what I understand. The family trust has mostly been paying the bills on it, Quentin has been operating it. He loves the place.”

“I can see why,” Felicity murmured as she stepped from her SUV. 

Just then, the front door banged open a little old balding man clutching a folder full of papers came rushing down the stairs. He barely gave either them a second look as he hurried to the little sedan, let himself in and drove away. If the drive hadn’t been packed with snow, Felicity had no doubt the tires would have squealed. As it was, the little car fishtailed a little as it aimed for the gate and shot out onto the road and out of sight. Felicity looked at her mother and raised her eyebrows. Donna shrugged. 

“Okay, that was weird,” she said. 

“He probably saw the ghost,” Donna said. 

Felicity snorted. 

They mounted the steps and walked across the porch together. The front door with the stained glass panels was cracked open. Felicity knocked on the wood and peeked her head inside. “Hello?”

When there was no reply, she pushed the doors open further and stepped in. Donna followed her cautiously. 

The entrance was grand and Felicity took a moment to just take it all in. There was gleaming dark hardwood floors, matching the wood of the grand staircase that lead to the second floor. The bannister was wreathed in pine boughs wrapped in lit white lights. An upright piano was tucked just under the staircase, out of the way. Framed pictures lined the wainscoted walls leading down the long hallway. Two large rooms were adjacent, one with french doors that were shut and the other with doors that were open. 

Felicity walked into the open room and found it to look quite like a regular living room. Comfortable looking sofas rimmed the room and an enormous stone fireplace dominated the space. Huge windows looked out onto the porch, showing the snow falling in the yard beyond. 

Felicity looked around at the tasteful but elegant decor, the warm and homey atmosphere of the room and felt… at home. It was strange. She didn’t even feel like this in her own apartment. In fact, she couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d felt like this. 

“Can I help you?” a brusque voice asked from behind them. Both Felicity and her mom spun around and she saw an older gentleman, standing at the entrance to the room. He wore a chambray shirt and jeans, had a shaven head but a face full of scruff. His eyes were sharp and his mouth was set but his expression relaxed once he recognized her mother. 

“Donna! What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I was just closing up for the next couple of weeks.”

“I know, Quentin,” she said stepping forward. “This is my daughter. Felicity, this is Quentin Lance. He runs Verdant House.”

Quentin took her offered hand and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Smoak. Visiting your mother for the holiday? Heard about our haunted inn and wanted to have a look?” he asked with a smile. 

“Yes to the first and… not exactly to the second,” Felicity said. Then, she caught herself. “Not that I don’t think your inn is absolutely charming. I think I’ve fallen in love and I’ve only been here ten minutes! But I didn’t come to tour the inn.”

Quentin looked at her mother curiously before turning his attention back to her. “Okay, then what’s on your mind? You’re not looking to buy the place, are you? ‘Cause let me tell you, that’d be a huge relief.”

Felicity blinked. “You’re selling?” Her mother looked equally surprised. 

Quentin nodded and looked especially grim. “The last living heir of the Queen estate just passed last week. Her name was Henrietta Queen-Harper, only child of Thea Queen and her husband, Roy Harper. So the estate was passed to the trust and the trust wants to sell. Before the New Year, to avoid taxes.”

Felicity looked around the room with new eyes, noticing the intricate crown moulding, the craftsmanship of the fireplace, even the appeal of the tall windows. She wished suddenly that she had the money to purchase the place herself. In the next moment, she wondered where on earth that thought had come from. She didn’t even _live_ in Starling. What would she do with an old Victorian inn? 

“That’s a shame,” she murmured. 

“Oh, Quentin. What do you think will happen? Will it be closed down? Turned into a private property? What about your job?” her mother asked. 

Quentin shrugged. “It’s really up to the new owner, whoever that ends up being. But… might be easier said than done, selling the place. Did you see the man who went running out of here just as you arrived?”

Felicity nodded. “He looked like he was being chased.”

“Close enough. That was an appraiser, sent to inspect the house and apparently the Verdant House Ghost gave him a spook when he was down in the basement.”

“Oh, come on. A grown man like that? Scared of a ghost story?”

“Maybe it’s not so much of a story,” Quentin said. 

Felicity could tell by his expression that the man believed what he was saying. She chose not to press it, not wanting to antagonize the person she’d come to ask a favor from. “My mother tells me you close the inn between December 12 and Christmas. Any particular reason? Seems you’re missing out on some good tourist money.”

The older man looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Let’s just say its tradition.”

“And you don’t stay here either?” 

“Nope. I have a place in town that I split time at. The rest of the staff has already left and won’t be back until New Year’s. Well, if the place isn’t sold, that is.”

“Could I maybe ask you a huge favor, Mr. Lance?” she asked. 

His brow furrowed. “Ask away.”

“I know you’re closed and all but I was hoping you might let me stay in one of the rooms here while I’m visiting my mother. There’s really not enough room at her place and I’d be willing to pay—“

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea…”

“I can keep an eye on the place, so it won’t be so empty. I promise I won’t make a mess or damage anything. You won’t even be able to tell I was here.”

Quentin looked distinctly uncomfortable. Again he looked to her mother but it was clear her mother had no idea why Felicity staying at Verdant House would be such an issue either. 

“I suppose I can allow you at least the one night… but I’m not so sure you’ll want to be staying after that,” he told her. 

Felicity couldn’t keep the skeptical expression off her face. “Because of the ghost?”

He shrugged. 

“I think I’ll be fine. I’ll have my cell phone and I can call you or my mother anytime I need to, in case I run into any issues,” she pointed out. 

Quentin sighed. “All right. You can stay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Consider me warned.” She beamed a smile at him that actually made him crack and smile back. 

“That’s quite a tenacious daughter you have there, Ms. Smoak,” he said to her mother. 

“Don’t I know it,” Donna remarked. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for dinner. How about we three head to town and grab some pizza?”

“Throw in a pitcher of beer and you’re on,” Felicity said, noticing how Quentin’s grin softened as he smiled at her mother. 

_Flirting indeed_ , Felicity mused. She was just happy that she was going to be allowed to stay in this beautiful place rather than trying to squeeze in at her mom’s apartment. Throw in some pizza and beer on top of that and this day was shaping up quite nicely indeed. 

***

She rode with her mother and Quentin in his big pickup truck so she wouldn’t have to worry about drinking and then driving. Since Quentin didn’t drink (and Felicity wasn’t about to ask him why not), he drove her back out to Verdant House after they’d exhausted the pizza, beer and played several rounds of darts. 

Felicity had gotten to know a few of the townspeople who were at the old fashioned pizza parlor. Everyone had been so friendly and interested in her, apparently thrilled to finally be meeting Donna Smoak’s daughter. Her mother seemed fairly well regarded by everyone, which wasn’t really much of a surprise. Her mom always had made friends really easily. 

It was dark as she let herself into the giant Victorian. She waved Quentin off and then set the alarm, using the instructions he’d left her. She walked through, checking that the fires in the fireplaces had been put out and that the house was ready for slumber. Then she padded up the stairs with her rollaway suitcase in hand. She had her pick of bedrooms and selected one that overlooked the snowy and woodsy back yard. An enormous four poster canopy bed dominated the room, dressed in rich, dark red linens. There was a fireplace in the room that she considered lighting but ultimately decided against. She unpacked her things quickly and efficiently, changed into her pajamas and then brushed her teeth in the small adjoined bathroom with the quaint, old fashioned sink. 

Really, this was a very charming place. She hoped whomever purchased it decided to continue letting it operate as an inn. Felicity could see her returning to Starling after this visit, to see her mom and stay in this room. 

Her phone rang as she was rinsing her mouth and she saw it was from Ray. Rolling her eyes, she answered it. 

“How’s it going?” he asked. “Have you killed your mother yet?”

“It was a near thing,” Felicity joked. “I decided to spare her life and am staying at the local haunted inn instead.”

“Oooh, a haunted inn? Like as in ghosts?” He sounded intrigued. “What’s the name of the place?”

“Verdant House. In Starling. It’s actually really gorgeous. And for sale, actually, in case you are looking for an investment.” Felicity smirked as she rinsed her toothbrush, ran a brush through her hair and then shut off the bathroom light, walking out into the bedroom. 

Ray’s snort was soft over the phone line. She could hear the clicking of keyboard keys. “Oh, _that_ place. No wonder it sounded familiar.”

“What?” she asked. 

“I just googled Verdant House, which I’m surprised you haven’t done, by the way,” he said. 

“Hey, I’ve been busy eating pizza and this inn doesn’t have wifi.”

“Sounds awful. Anyhow, I saw a documentary on this place a couple months ago. Aired on the History Channel. Apparently it’s haunted by the ghost of some guy who went missing 95 years ago.”

“I am staying the night here, alone mind you, and I have yet to see any 95 year old ghosts,” Felicity told him. 

“He’d actually be closer to 125 years old, actually. I think he was about thirty when he disappeared. December 24, 1921. That’s what this wikipedia page says,” Ray told her. 

“Ooh, he’s close to my age. Maybe he’ll wanna go on a date,” she teased.

“If you see anything, I want to hear about it right away,” he said. “I really geek out over these ghost stories, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll be the first to know.” 

She hung up the phone and since she was all set for bed, Felicity took her phone charger and plugged it in near the nightstand and then plugged her phone into that, setting it down within easy reach. Then, she pulled back the blankets and climbed between the sheets, sighing at the soft warmth that enveloped her. It was a very comfortable bed and she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. 

The last thing she remembered doing before sleep took her was take off her glasses and set them on the nightstand, right next to her phone.

But a full night’s rest wasn’t in the cards, apparently. It was pitch black when Felicity woke up suddenly. Had she just heard a noise? Or was that something in her dream?

She sat up, staring blindly into the dark and straining her ears, hoping it was just the wind or her imagination. She held her breath… waiting… 

_CREAK… thump._

Her heart leapt into her throat. That was definitely a door being pushed open and the thump of a foot step. She heard more thumps and her mind started to race. Call the police. Get a weapon. No one was going to rob Verdant House while she was on watch, dammit. 

Felicity eased carefully out of bed, trying not to make a sound. Her efforts were for naught when she grabbed for her phone, both for a light source and to have ready to call the cops and forgot it was plugged into the power. The phone clattered noisily to the floor and she hissed, picking it up. She stepped into the bathroom to grab her longest, sharpest looking nail file from her cosmetic bag before easing her bedroom door open and stepping out into the hall. 

She heard a few more thumps and thought they were coming from downstairs, the parlor she’d been in earlier that day. As quietly as she could, Felicity crept down the stairs. She had her phone out and on, 911 already dialed in and all she had to do was hit “call”. Her nail file was brandished in her other hand. 

Moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows at the front door gave her enough light to see where she was going. The thumps stopped and she held her breath as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The doors to the parlor were open (hadn’t she shut them before she went upstairs?). The alarm was at the other end of the hall and she wanted to see if it was still engaged. Quickly, she moved down the hall, away from the parlor and the front door. 

She reached the alarm unit and noticed that it was disengaged. Surely she’d set it, right? She _remembered_ setting it before going upstairs. How would an average intruder know how the code for the alarm system?

There was another creak, louder this time and Felicity whipped around. It was the parlor doors. What she saw dried up all the spit in her mouth. 

The large silhouette of a man filled the opposite end of the hallway. Broad shoulders, long arms and legs… He _spoke_ …

“What are you doing in my house?” he demanded in a rough voice. 

“Eep!” Felicity cried out, stumbling backwards and knocking into a cabinet. She heard something over her head topple over, felt a sharp pain and then oblivion claimed her. 

***

Sunlight streamed through a window, cutting harshly across her face. Felicity groaned, lifting a hand to try to block it. She felt groggy, as though she’d drank five pints of beer last night, instead of just two. As she pushed herself up, she also realized, with a wince, that she had a raging headache. 

That wasn’t because of the beer, though. She could tell a beer headache. This was… 

She lifted a hand and touched at the crown of her head, wincing again when she felt a big, sore goose-egg in her hair. That’s when she remembered the noises that had woken her in the night. She remembered grabbing her phone and creeping downstairs and she remembered seeing…

Piano music was playing someplace nearby. Blinking her eyes to try to clear the fog and sitting up, Felicity realized she was laying on the larger sofa in the parlor, an old patchwork quilt covering her. She didn’t remember laying down here and she certainly didn’t remember that quilt. What the hell had happened? And where was that music coming from? 

She got up, letting the quilt fall onto the sofa as she gingerly got to her feet. She noticed her cell phone sitting on a nearby table and she scooped it up, tucking it in the pocket of her pajama pants. Had Quentin come by to check on her and decided to play the piano while he waited for her to wake up? 

She opened the parlor doors and realized the music was coming from the upright piano. Felicity stepped out into the hallway and looked underneath the staircase, where the piano was kept. 

Sitting at the keyboard was a man. His fingers moved deftly over the keys, playing “The Twelve Days of Christmas”, filling the beautiful old house with song. He was young, maybe only a few years older than her. He wore an old fashioned button down shirt with no collar, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a waistcoat, and trousers. His light brown hair was clipped short on the sides and back, with a longer section on top that flopped over a bit on one side. His jaw was covered by a short growth of whiskers that was trimmed neatly around his neck. 

He was absolutely _gorgeous_ and she hadn’t seen more than just his back and his profile. Was he the same man who startled her last night? 

“Excuse me?” she called out softly, stopping a few feet away from him. 

The man stopped playing immediately and whirled around to face her. As he got to his feet, whatever Felicity was about to say next died in her throat as she gaped at him. If she thought his profile was handsome, it had nothing on his face. His eyes were the clearest, brightest blue she’d ever seen in her life, framed by thick lashes. His lips were soft, a small mole at the corner of his mouth giving him a distinct look. 

“What are you doing in my house?” he demanded, looming over her. Cripes, he was _tall_ too. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t anyone’s _house_. You must be mistaken. This is an inn, where people stay?” she tried to explain. 

His thick brows drew together. “The inn is closed for the next two weeks,” he told her testily. 

Felicity wondered how he knew that, exactly. “Quentin Lance is allowing me to stay here.”

The man shook his head, denying her words. “No. That won’t do. You need to leave.”

“Excuse me??” Now she was getting angry. Who did this guy think he was? “Listen, buddy. The man who runs this inn said I can stay and—“

“This is _my_ house!” the man yelled, his blue eyes flashing. “Leave now!”

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The man considered her for a moment before nodding his head and starting forwards towards her. Felicity started to stumble backwards but in a half of a moment, he had her scooped up and thrown over his shoulder, as though she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes. 

“Hey!” she cried, swatting his broad back. “Put me down.”

The man didn’t say anything as he strode to the front door and yanked it open. Felicity had one last good look at his rear end in those trousers before she was dropped back onto her feet again. He turned immediately and walked back into the house, closing the door and locking it. 

Felicity tried the doorknob and then beat on the wood. “Hey! Let me in! You can’t do this!”

A moment later, the door was pulled open again. The man thrust a bundle out towards her and Felicity barely had a moment to catch it in her arms and notice it was the quilt she’d been covered with when she woke this morning before the door was, once again, slammed in her face. 

***

Fifteen minutes later, she was bundled in the quilt, dancing around on the porch and trying to keep warm in the frigid morning air. Snow wasn’t falling today and the sun was out, but apparently with clear skies came plunging temperatures. She nearly cried out with relief when she saw the Jeep emblazoned with “Starling Police” enter through the gate and lumber down the drive towards her. 

As she watched, a young woman with long, dark wavy hair and wearing a tan police uniform stepped out of the vehicle. She was pretty but her expression was just this side of irritated. 

“Lock yourself out?” the woman asked. 

“Not exactly,” Felicity explained. She stuck a hand out through the gap in the quilt. “Felicity Smoak. Friend of Quentin Lance. He said I could stay here.”

The woman shook her hand. “McKenna Hall. Starling Police Deputy. And I know, I called Quentin to verify after I received your call. He said he’ll be out this afternoon to see how you’re doing, he has some things to attend to in town.”

“That’s good,” she said. “Nice to meet you, by the way. Can you let me in, please? I’m sort of freezing out here.”

“Did you go out to get the paper and accidentally shut the door?” McKenna asked as she unlocked the door with a key from a set she kept on her belt. 

“No. I was kicked out,” Felicity explained. 

McKenna looked at her sharply as she pushed the door open. “I thought you were the only one staying here.”

“I am,” she insisted. “This man showed up last night in the middle of the night and I got knocked out.” They stepped inside and Felicity breathed in relief at being out of the cold. 

The deputy’s eyes turned dark. “He attacked you?”

“No, he didn’t attack me. I got startled and knocked over a vase that hit me on the head.”

“Ahh… and when you woke up…”

“When I woke up, he was playing the piano and when he saw me, he picked me up and carried me outside and left me there.”

“With a blanket.”

“Yes.”Felicity knew how silly this sounded. Honestly, if it hadn’t just happened to her, she probably wouldn’t believe it either. 

“And you don’t know this person?” McKenna asked, still looking skeptical. 

“Never seen them before in my life. Kept saying this was his house. But as far as I know, no one lives her full time.”

“That would be correct,” the deputy mused. “Wait here while I check the house and around the perimeter, see if this guy is still here.”

“Thank you so much,” Felicity gushed. “I really appreciate it.”

She sat in the parlor, her knee bouncing nervously and waited for McKenna. She turned her phone over and over in her hands, fidgeting, but was too keyed up to check her texts or emails or anything. Everything was quiet all through the house and she knew that if the guy was still there, she would have heard something. But… she had been out on the porch the entire time, waiting for the police to show up. Surely she would have seen the guy leaving, right? 

A moment later, Deputy Hall reappeared. “No sign of anyone,” she reported. “But if you see him back here, give me a call right away. I’m not far.”

Felicity nodded, the disappointment keen. She’d really hoped McKenna would find the guy and then Felicity wouldn’t have to worry about him again. Now, she felt like she was going to be looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. Shit, she’d wanted to take a shower too. 

She watched the deputy drive off and then went upstairs to her room. She glanced longingly at the bed before grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser. All those high thread-count sheets and she hadn’t even got to spend the whole night with them. What a shame. 

Before she went into the bathroom, she locked her bedroom door, eyeing the knob carefully as she did so, half expecting that man to come barging through any second. When he didn’t, she blew out a breath, and took her clothes into the bathroom. She locked that door too. Just in case. 

The bathtub was an old fashioned clawfoot tub with shining fixtures and a ring that held the shower curtain around the lip. Felicity was charmed by it, despite herself. She didn’t want to take to long though, just in case her visitor returned. The last thing she wanted was some strange guy to see her naked in the shower. It was bad enough he’d picked her up last night when she’d been knocked her out and put her on the sofa in the parlor, pulling the blanket over her. It had to be him that did that, she realized. It made her feel strange in a way she wasn’t familiar with. 

After her shower, she toweled off, blew her hair dry and pulled it up into her customary ponytail, put on a bit of makeup and got dressed. Surveying her appearance in the mirror, she nodded. 

She unlocked the door and stepped out into the bedroom. Standing there, next to her bed, was the man. He was holding a set of keys and glaring at her. 

“This is my house,” he growled. “I just want my solitude, I have no intention of hurting you!”

Felicity didn’t even give him a chance to come at her this time. She turned and shut herself back inside the bathroom, locking the door and leaning against it. Luckily, she had her phone with her still and she dialed up McKenna. Again. 

It took about a half hour this time but before long, there was a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Who is it?” she called out, knowing that this brute of a man would probably not knock. Felicity had been trying hard not to think too much about how he had keys to all the rooms in the inn and could have let himself into this bathroom anytime he wanted. 

“McKenna Hall, Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity unlatched the door and opened it. “Anything?” she asked hopefully. 

The brunette woman shook her head. “Sorry. Not a thing.” 

Felicity sighed as she walked past to slump onto the bed, feeling defeated. She noticed McKenna watching her with a look that could only be described as pitying. That bugged her. She hadn’t made this guy up, dammit. He was real. He’d _picked her up_. 

“I’m not making this up,” she told her. 

“I’m not saying you are,” McKenna said, her voice gentle in a way that irritated Felicity even more. 

“There’s a real man and he’s been threatening me to leave the inn,” Felicity insisted. 

The deputy sighed. “Quentin should be here in about an hour. Do you want me to wait with you?”

What was the point? Felicity had the distinct impression that this guy, whoever he was, wasn’t going to show himself while the McKenna was around and would just wait until she was alone anyhow. It didn’t make much sense to continue monopolizing this woman’s time when she probably had some teenage shoplifter she could be reaming out instead. 

“No,” Felicity told her. “I’ll be all right here by myself.”

“You sure?” McKenna looked skeptical. 

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

As sure as she could be with some strange man bent on terrorizing her, at least. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets to know Oliver Queen.

No sooner had McKenna’s jeep pulled out of the drive than Felicity heard a now-familiar voice behind her. “Being a little stubborn, are we?” he asked.

Felicity turned away from the window and look back at where the man stood, near where the piano sat. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” she remarked. 

“If you’d just leave then you wouldn’t have to be dealing with this at all,” he pointed out. 

“Why should I have to leave? I don’t have to take your word that this is your house, you know,” she said. “I have as much right to be here as anyone else.”

He scoffed. “I think you’ll find you’re quite wrong about that. Besides, maybe this is all just your imagination. Maybe you’re starting to lose your mind.”

She noticed the way his eyes twinkled as he said that, unable to hide his mirth. He was… joking with her? 

“You’re real,” she told him. “I’m not an idiot.”

He looked like he was fully willing to argue with her on that point. 

“But what _is_ real?” he asked her. 

“Oh, no. I’m not going to get drawn into some philosophical debate with an _intruder_.” Felicity thought for a moment. “You’re probably some local guy, playing a prank on the out-of-towner.”

His eyebrows raised. “So you don’t live here in Starling?” he asked. 

She was growing more and more certain of her theory with each passing moment. “Like you don’t already know that. Real funny, by the way, coming here and terrorizing some woman you don’t even know, trying to scare her off while other people fill her mind with ghost stories. Far as I know, this whole town is in on it.”

She paced the hall while he smirked at her. “I hear these delusions can be a sign of having lost one’s mind,” he told her. 

She was about to snipe back at him, when one of the frames on the wall caught her eye. It was an old newspaper clipping set next to a full body photograph of a young man. A young man who looked exactly like the man standing before her now. 

The words died in her throat as she stepped closer to the frame. **_“Heir to the Queen Fortune, Oliver Queen, missing on Christmas Eve”_** the headline on the article read. It was dated the end of the year in 1921, a whole 95 years before. The photo was captioned “Oliver Queen” and showed him standing, serious and sturdy, before Verdant House. He looked exactly as he looked right this minute, down to the hair cut. Feeling a chill chase up her spine, Felicity backed away from the photograph. 

“That’s impossible,” she murmured. 

“Not as impossible as you’d probably like to think,” a wry voice said. She turned to see Quentin standing in the hall, right next to the man who’d terrorized her last night and all this morning. He looked at him, nodded his head. “Good to see you again, Oliver.”

“Wait…” Felicity said, holding up her hand. “Wait just a minute here. _That_ —“ she pointed at Oliver, “—is not Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen went missing 95 years ago. This man… he just looks like him. That’s all.”

Quentin looked a little pained and exchanged a look with the young man who shrugged his shoulders negligently. “I know the existence of ghosts is a lot to take in…”

She laughed and it sounded harsh in the now-crowded hallway. “Of course it is. Because ghosts don’t exist. This man is not a ghost.”

Felicity stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm. Her fingers pressed into his warm flesh and he looked strange… almost affected, but definitely irritated too. He sighed dramatically. 

“Quentin, just tell her the story.”

“But you tell it so much better,” the older man replied, dry humor coloring his tone. 

“Someone better start talking quick, because I’m about ready to call Deputy Hall back here,” Felicity said. 

“My name is Oliver Queen. I died 95 years ago,” the man said. 

“But that’s absurd,” Felicity argued. “You’re basically saying that ghosts exist and that you are a ghost.”

Oliver glanced at Quentin and then shrugged at her. “The logic does seem to follow…”

She stepped closer to him, narrowing her eyes. “But you can’t be a ghost,” she argued. Then, Felicity grabbed his arm, holding it up. “See? I can touch you. You picked me up! Ghosts aren’t… solid.”

Quentin snorted. “She makes a good point.”

“Indeed,” Oliver said between gritted teeth. She released him and he rubbed at his arm, as though she’d burned him. 

“Why don’t you prove it to her the same way you proved it to me?” Quentin suggested. “That sure made an impression.”

Oliver turned his eyes on her and Felicity almost felt like shrinking back. “That’s not a bad idea,” he murmured, eyeing her curiously. “Come, walk with me.” 

It didn’t sound like a question and Felicity had to admit she was curious. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll just wait here,” Quentin called as they walked from the room. 

Oliver lead her to the front door and walked through and she hurried to catch up. She didn’t have her jacket on and it was rather cold outside. She wrapped her arms around herself as she hurried to keep up with his long strides. 

He didn’t look over his shoulder at her as he walked towards the big heavy iron gates at the end of the drive. The snow was packed down but Felicity still tried to step carefully while she hurried to keep up with him. 

He stopped right before the gate and waited for her. He was looking out beyond the gate, at the road and woods beyond, towards the town. There was a faraway look in his eyes. Felicity caught herself before she asked what he was thinking. 

“So what is this proof?” she asked. “How do you expect to prove to me that you’re a ghost?”

“Just watch,” he said. 

He pushed the gate open and then stepped forward through it. And disappeared. 

Felicity blinked hard and then looked around her, wondering if maybe the sun’s glare off the snow had played tricks on her eyes. The air was still and crisp and clear and there was no sign of Oliver anywhere. Felicity looked beyond the gate and noticed no fresh footprints in the snow alongside the tracks Quentin’s truck had left behind. In fact, Oliver’s tracks had simply ended at the gate. 

Her heart was pounding now as she rushed back to the house. She had to tell Quentin. But, she realized a little belatedly, he probably already knew. After all, he was the one who suggested Oliver “prove” his status as a ghost. Starting to feel just a tad hysterical, Felicity raced up the steps to the porch and back into the inn. 

There, sitting on the stairs and looking bored, was Oliver. 

“Do you believe I’m a ghost now?” he asked. 

For maybe the first time in her life, Felicity felt utterly speechless. She just gaped at him, unable to form words. He looked exactly the same as he had before, the same shirt, the same trousers… His hair flopped over on top, looking a bit tousled by the wind, but for the most part, it was like he just reappeared, inside the house. 

“How did you do that?” she finally gasped out. 

Oliver shrugged. “That is an excellent question.”

He got up from the stairs and walked down and into the parlor, where Quentin waited for them. Felicity followed along after him, feeling completely at a loss. 

Quentin was sitting in a wing back chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Oliver sat in a hard backed chair next to the bookcase and Felicity perched on the sofa. 

“So what happened?” Felicity asked. “Assuming I’m ready to believe you’re Oliver Queen who was born in…?”

“1891.”

She swore under her breath. “That’d make you 125 years old.” 

Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “A woman that is quick with sums! How remarkable!”

Felicity’s eyes widened as she stared at him. She tried to remind herself that women during his time often stifled their own intelligence and had just recently achieved the vote. 

Quentin saw where this was headed and intervened. “Oliver Queen went missing on December 24, 1921. His body was found in the woods behind Verdant House but there was no obvious evidence of foul play. It’s been a bit of a mystery ever since.”

Felicity looked to Oliver. “Do you remember what happened.”

His brow furrowed and he really looked like he was trying to remember. “I have no memory of what happened.”

Felicity’s curiosity started to grow. And once she got curious about something, once a mystery was placed before her, she couldn’t look away. Mysteries bugged her, they ate at her and caused her to fixate. She _had_ to solve them, if for no other reason than her own peace of mind. 

“None at all?” she asked.

Oliver shook his head. 

“So why are you here now… all… alive?” she asked. Then, she recalled the incident at the gate. “Or… at least mostly alive?”

“I’m not sure about that either,” he said. “I… become corporeal each year at midnight on December 13, and disappear again on December 24… again at midnight.”

“I can back that up,” Quentin piped in. “It’s why I close the inn each year during those dates, to give him his privacy.”Oliver smiled at the man, clearly grateful. Felicity found she was just irritated though… so much wasn’t making any sense to her.

“Okay, but where do you go when you’re not… here?”

Oliver’s expression closed down almost immediately. Not that he’d been terribly open before. But Felicity could tell right away that whatever he was thinking, whatever he was _remembering_ … it wasn’t pleasant for him. 

“Its like… being asleep, but trapped in a nightmare,” he murmured, his gaze far-away as he stared towards the windows. 

Felicity looked to Quentin who looked soberly back at her. “That’s the first I’ve ever heard him speak of it,” he admitted quietly. 

She wasn’t sure if she believed this whole thing, if she wanted to believe it. The fact that Oliver had disappeared before her very eyes was pretty compelling evidence though. And seeing the obvious pain on his face added another layer of realism. 

“So what did that mean when you disappeared at the gate?” Felicity asked him. 

“It means I cannot leave the property. Whatever it is that is bringing me to life for twelve days a year, is also keeping me _here_.”

“You’re talking like it’s a curse,” she said. 

“I admit I don’t know much about dark arts and witchcraft, but yes, it would seem to be quite a bit like a curse,” he answered. 

“I don’t believe in curses.”

One of his eyebrows arched. “You didn’t believe in ghosts before today either and yet, here we are.”

Okay, that was a good point. “Answer me this,” she said. “Are you the one who’s scaring off the people trying to sell this place?”

A dark look crossed his handsome features and his lips pursed. “Of course. This is my home. I don’t want any ignorant newcomers coming in and ruining things, or worse, tearing Verdant House down.”

“But you understand, don’t you, that the Queen’s last heir has passed away? And the deed to Verdant House now rests with the family trust? And they want to sell?”

Oliver sighed. “This is my _home_ ,” he repeated. 

In spite of herself, her heart went out to him. When she considered what he’d been through, _what he’d lost_ , she realized that all of this had to be downright terrifying to him. Suddenly, simply requiring his solitude didn’t seem like such an unreasonable request from him.

“Do you want to know what happened to you?” she asked gently. 

“I’ve spent 95 years trying to keep it from myself, to shut out thoughts of what might had happened to me.”

“But maybe… if you knew… you could move on? Is that something you want?”

Oliver didn’t answer for a long time. She didn’t have to explain what she meant about “moving on”. He got to his feet and paced the length of the room, rubbing a hand over the hair at the back of his neck and through the scruff covering his jaw. Finally, he stopped in front of the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest while he looked at her. 

“Yes, I would like to move on,” he told her. 

Felicity nodded. “I can help you,” she said. “But I need to be here, you need to let me stay so I can work with you on solving this mystery.”

He sighed and looked back at Quentin who shrugged. 

“All right. That’s acceptable. You may stay here in my home in exchange for unraveling my mystery and assisting me in breaking the curse and moving on from here.”

She wanted to snort at how pompous he sounded. It was an easy reminder that this task of hers wouldn’t be without it’s challenges. Oliver Queen was apparently a difficult man. Cranky, if nothing else. Then again, if she hadn’t had coffee in 95 years, she might be cranky too. 

“Do you drink coffee?” she asked him suddenly. He looked startled by the question. 

“What?”

“Coffee. Do you drink it? Do you eat?”

A small smile threatened to curve his lips. “Of course I eat. In fact I’m _starving_ right now. Can I interest you in some lunch?”

Felicity was startled by his complete reversal in attitude. He’d gone from being grumpy and closed off and downright threatening to… wanting to have lunch? With her? 

“Uh… sure?” She got up as he nodded and started striding towards the kitchen. She looked to Quentin. “Does he do this often?”

“He’s made me pancakes before,” the older man admitted.When he saw Felicity’s incredulous look, he smirked. “They were _really_ good.”

***

Felicity pushed her plate aside and stared at Oliver. He was currently shoveling food— grilled cheese and tomato soup— as if he hadn’t eaten in…well… 95 years. Quentin had finished his lunch as well and smirked at Oliver as he sipped at a mug of coffee. 

“Does he always eat this much?” she asked Quentin. 

“Pretty much. He says it has something to do with the sensation, the feeling of eating. I dunno…”

“I think if I were back from the dead, even temporarily, I would want something a little more exciting than grilled cheese,” she said. 

“It’s my favorite meal,” Oliver explained before taking a healthy bite out of a triple layer sandwich. 

“I’d probably want shrimp scampi. Or lobster. Or…oooh… pizza.”

“I’d want roast beef and potatoes,” Quentin piped in. 

“Have you ever had pizza?” Felicity asked Oliver. 

He merely grunted in response.

“Does he always eat like that?” Felicity asked Quentin. 

“Far as I know… yes.”

“You realize that I can hear you both,” Oliver muttered around a mouth full of food. “I’m dead, not deaf.”

She watched as he glowered briefly at them before returning to his pile of food. 

“Lovely attitude, too,” she remarked. 

“Now _that_ is definitely a regular thing with him,” Quentin said. 

“Does he ever smile?” she asked. 

“Not that I can recall.”

“I can still hear you!” Oliver glared. 

Felicity rolled her eyes and got to her feet, gesturing at Quentin to follow her out of the room. With one last smirk in the ghost’s direction, the older man followed her. 

They paused by the door to shrug on boots and coats before heading outside. 

The sky was clouding up again and Felicity realized that the morning’s sunshine was a brief respite. Another storm was likely on the way. Under normal circumstances, she would have checked on the weather app on her phone but she hadn’t had time to do much more than check the time (and call Deputy Hall) since she woke up that morning. 

“Do you have any idea why this is happening?” she asked as they walked away from the house. 

Quentin shook his head. “I’ve always just assumed it’s because he’s attached to the place, he died nearby. You know… your average haunting.”

Felicity scoffed at the idea of a haunting being average. “But he shows up every year?”

“Yes, every year, at midnight on the 13, on the nose. The first year I worked the inn, let me tell you, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“He surprised you too, huh?”

Quentin’s laugh echoed off the trees around them. “That’s putting it mildly. I was checking in some guests, getting their keys, and when I turned around, there he wasbehind the desk, telling them the inn was closed for the holiday.”

“What did you do??”

“I didn’t want to alarm the guests, they couldn’t tell he wasn’t supposed to be there. I told them we were closing.”

“You turned them away?”

“Well, some strange man appears out of nowhere and tells them to leave? I didn’t want to put anyone in danger.”

“And you knew who he was?”

“Yup. I grew up here in Starling, so I knew all about the legend of the Verdant House Ghost… people have been talking about it since before I was alive. So I’d seen the pictures of him and heard the story more times than I could count.”

“What did Oliver tell you?” Felicity wanted to know. 

“He couldn’t tell me much,” Quentin admitted. “Or he wouldn’t. I think he’s deliberately shut himself away over the years. He’s never seemed to want to know too much about what happened after he died or even how he died. It’s why I’m a little surprised he’s willing to dig into this with you now.”

She hummed. “I think it’s because he sees the potential of actually moving on.”

Quentin eyed her speculatively. “Yeah, that’s definitely part of it.”

“Does my mom know about him?” Felicity asked. She felt sure she would have said something if she did, but on the other hand, her mother could also be pretty adept at keeping secrets to herself. 

“No,” he answered. “I haven’t told anyone. I mean, she knows the legend of the ghost, but that he comes to life each year? I’ve kept that pretty quiet”

Understandable. Felicity wasn’t sure she’d want to tell anyone either, and not just because they’d probably laugh at her. If word got out about Oliver, the likelihood of him having his solitude would disappear. Which was just another reason to try to help him break this curse and move on… there was no telling what the next owners of Verdant House would do when they learned about his existence. 

“So back to the first time you met him… what did you do? How did you get rid of all the guests in the inn?”

His cheeks colored slightly. “I made up a story about the water heater breaking. Once everyone was out, I sat down with Oliver and he told me that he didn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wanted to be alone.”

“Is that what made me you agree to close the inn from December 13 through December 25?” she asked. 

They paused near the gate and Quentin nodded. “Yup. I could see he was conflicted and I… well, I felt bad for the guy. He’d lost everything. He just wanted to be left alone, that was something I could do for him.”

Felicity could understand that, wanting to help the guy. He might be prickly and cranky and just this side of rude, but there was something vulnerable about him. 

“I’d like to help him too,” she said. “I’ve had my eyes opened today, to a lot of things. But I feel pretty certain that there’s a _reason_ he’s still here, that he keeps coming back to life for twelve days a year.”

***

Quentin had some things he needed to do in town so he left in his truck and Felicity returned to the inn. She found Oliver in the kitchen, washing up their plates and bowls from lunch. She paused for a moment in the doorway, admiring the sight of him standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up and hands soapy. If she also admired the way those trousers fit his backside, well, she could hardly be blamed. The man cut a fine specimen. 

“Did Quentin leave?” he asked, without even turning around. 

Felicity hadn’t realized he knew she was standing there. She shifted and stood up straighter. “Yes, he did. Just you and me, big boy,” she said, hoping to sound flippant and wincing when it sounded more suggested than anything. 

Oliver turned slowly to look at her. One of his eyebrows was raised and Felicity tried to hide the flush she knew must be crawling up her cheeks. “What did you want to do with me?” he asked. 

Was he… _flirting_? Felicity immediately dismissed that idea as pure ridiculousness. 125 year old ghosts surely did not flirt. 

“I thought maybe we could go back over what you _do_ remember, see if we can find some clues,” she suggested. 

Oliver dried his hands off and nodded. “Now is as good a time as any. Let’s go sit in the parlor to do this.”

Felicity followed him in there and sat on the sofa while he started a fire in the fireplace. She tried to keep her eyes off his rear end as he crouched before the grate, but it was a pretty difficult thing to manage. She was only human, after all. 

He made quick work of the firewood and it wasn’t long before a fire was crackling merrily away. He stood and sat in the wingback chair next to where she was seated. “I hope this isn’t a waste of my time,” he said. 

“How can it be a waste of time to uncover a mystery about your own life and how it ended?” she wanted to know. 

Oliver sighed. “I get twelve days a year, Felicity. Twelve days and that’s it. Then I am sucked back into this… blackness. I prefer to spend those twelve days doing things that make the other 350 days halfway bearable.”

“353,” she corrected automatically. 

He looked at her incredulously. “That’s the second time. Do you have a fondness for practicing sums?”

“I graduated from MIT with two masters degrees,” she told him. “One in computer sciences and the other in cyber security.”

“I have no idea what those things are,” he admitted. “And… I never went to University. I’m assuming that’s what MIT is?”

Felicity had to remind herself that he was from a different time. Some things that were common knowledge hadn’t always been. “Yes, MIT is a university. Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”

“Massachusetts?” His thick brows drew together. “That is clear on the other side of the country.”

She grinned. “Yes, it is. But it’s just a six hour plane ride away these days.”

“Incredible.” He sat back in his chair. “And you were not the only woman attending MIT, were you?”

“Nope. Not even close. These days, women get degrees and work alongside men all the time.”

He shook his head but he didn’t look disgusted by the revelation. It was more that he looked amazed by it. 

“So, I’m going to assume you’re not familiar with what a computer is?”

“Not even the faintest clue.”

“Quentin has one at the check in desk,” she said. 

Oliver just blinked at her. 

“Okay, we’ll teach you about computers and the internet later. When we have time. Because, as you mentioned, you don’t want to waste your time. So let’s start with what you _do_ remember. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“All right. So who were the people in your life at the time you died, those you were closest too, those you had arguments with, those you trusted or whom you lost trust in…”

“Hmm…” He rubbed his chin. “There was my sister, Thea. She was ten years younger than I am, my parents died when she was only sixteen years old and I raised her until I passed. She was twenty when I died.”

“Have you ever learned what happened to her?”

A pained look crossed his face. “No.” 

Felicity wanted to ask him about that, ask him about his sister, make him confront his feelings because it was clear to her that he had a _lot_ of feelings and not just about his little sister. But she reminded herself that this wasn’t the time. So she moved on. 

“Who else?”

“There’s my best friend, Thomas Merlyn. We called him Tommy, actually. We were raised together, almost as brothers. He lived here with my sister and I. We were in business together, both with running this home as an inn and… well. Other ventures as well.”

There was a story there, she was sure of it. She made a note to come back to Thomas Merlyn and whatever these other ventures were later. 

“Anyone else?”

“Laurel Lance. She was my fiancée.”

That startled Felicity. “Wait. Lance like… Quentin Lance?”

“Yes, the same. She’s a distant relation of his, if I’m not mistaken. Perhaps a great aunt?”

“Have you talked to him about her?” 

“No.” Again, Oliver got a pained look on his face. 

Again… there was a story there. Felicity was understanding that there was a lot of layers to this man. Some of those layers had had 95 years to simmer and fester. 

“So the last thing you remember is walking through the woods behind Verdant House on Christmas Eve?” she prompted. 

“Yes. I was on my way home and I wanted to make it before midnight. I remember seeing the house, but that is all.”

“Your body was discovered in the woods, but I’m not sure what day. I’ll ask Quentin if he knows.”

“I believe he has all the newspaper clippings in the attic,” he said. “He offered to show them to me once but I turned him down.”

“Do you believe you were killed?” she asked him gently. 

Oliver rolled his shoulders. “I’m not sure. I don’t recall it, but on the other hand, I know I wouldn’t have taken my own life. And I was anxious enough to return home that I don’t believe I would have sat in the woods long enough to pass from exposure.”

Felicity nodded. “What were you doing before you walked home through the woods? Where had you been before that?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I was in Canada,” he said. He looked away, clearly not wanting to meet her eye. 

“Canada?” Why would he be guilty about a trip to Canada? Because she could tell he felt guilty about it, the discomfort was radiating off him in waves. 

“Do you know anything about the Volstead Act?”

Felicity searched through her memory. It sounded familiar… “Wait, is that Prohibition? The banning of alcohol?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I was in Canada to collect liquor to bring back to the States with the intent to distribute and sell it illegally.”

He still would not meet her eye. 

“You were a bootlegger,” she said. 

“I prefer the term ‘rum runner’.” 

“But… why? You were the son of wealthy parents, you inherited their fortune and this house. You were a respected member of the community.” She tried to keep the judgement out of her tone, because she didn’t judge anyone running booze from Canada during prohibition. Banning alcohol had been, in her opinion, a ridiculous maneuver by the country and had ultimately failed. But at the same time, Oliver Queen being a bootlegger didn’t mesh well with what she knew about him and his family history. 

“My parents passed while I was overseas, fighting in the Great War and I inherited Verdant House when I returned home. My sister, Thea, also inherited the deed along with me but she was a minor at the time, if only for a few more months. Unfortunately, there was not much fortune to inherit besides the home. My father had lost most of our family’s money, which I discovered when I went over the books with Tommy.”

“Oliver… I’m so sorry,” she said, leaning forward to place a hand on his knee in comfort. To lose his family like that, and then to have all that responsibility thrust upon his shoulders… It had to have been overwhelming. 

“I wanted nothing more than to hold onto this house, this legacy of my family. It was a home for Thea and myself, to Tommy as well. And I liked operating it as an inn,” he told her. He smiled a little. “I liked cooking meals for the guests. It came naturally to me.”

“So what happened?” she asked. 

Oliver sighed. “Verdant House’s bills soon outgrew any profits we were making from operating it as an inn. Some of my father’s old debts came up as well. I needed money to save the inn or the bank would take it. Tommy heard about the opportunity in Canada. He knew a man, a businessman, who was heading the operation and assured me it was an easy and quick way to get the money we needed.”

“So he ran booze as well?”

“Yes. He was my partner. My best friend and… I had another reason I wanted to provide a stable future for the inn, for my family…” He trailed off and looked her in the eye. “I met a woman, Laurel Lance. She’d just moved to Starling with her widowed father. I was enamored from the first moment I saw her. I wanted to catch her attention, wanted her to choose me. She had a lot of suitors there, at first. And I wanted to set myself apart from them. I spent money on her, money we couldn’t afford to part with. But I had fallen so hard and so fast… At any rate, it worked. I courted her and after about seven months, we became engaged.”

“You loved her,” Felicity said. It wasn’t a question. She could hear it in the way he spoke about her. 

“I did,” he agreed. “I would have done anything for her. And I thought it was mutual.”

“It wasn’t?”

Oliver’s expression hardened quickly. His eyes flashed with temper. “Apparently not. Because not a week after I died, she married Tommy.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity butt heads and Oliver has more memories of the past.

_October 4, 1921_

Warm autumn sunshine filtered through the windows in the study as Oliver watched Laurel walk around the room, touching the shelves and furnishings, smiling to herself. 

“ _This_ is your favorite room?” he asked her, a little incredulous. “Not the parlor? Not the master bedroom?”

Laurel smiled at him, a little mischievously. “I like this room the best. I’d like to turn it into a library, actually, after we’re married.”

Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. He’d just asked her to marry him the week before and she’d accepted him. It’d been the happiest day of his life; the sort of happy he’d thought he might never have after the horror of the war and losing his parents. 

“A library?”

“Yes,” she said. She plucked a book off the shelf and rubbed her fingers over the spine. “I want to fill it with books like this one.”

He snatched the book from her hands and saw the title. He scoffed. “ _A Christmas Carol_? So you like books that are about fantastical things? Ghosts instead of real people?”

Laurel took the book back and gave him a cross look. “I think it’s a lovely story. The ghosts appear to show Ebenezer how he is wasting and ruining his life. It’s about learning lessons and bettering oneself. How is that fantastical?”

“It’s got _ghosts_ in it, Laurel,” he told her. “You can’t tell me you believe in ghosts, can you?”

She shrugged and walked away to place the book on its shelf. “Maybe. I can’t claim to know everything there is. The world is a mysterious place, Oliver Queen.”

He couldn’t stay irritated with her. He liked the idea of turning this old study of his fathers into a library. Guests at the inn could use it to find reading material. Best of all, it would make her happy. 

But Oliver couldn’t ignore the paperwork Thomas had shared with him yesterday, the paperwork that said the bank was getting impatient for them to repay the money they owed on the house. If Oliver was unable to procure that money to pay the bank before the New Year, they would lose Verdant House altogether.

“We could always build a new home of our own,” Oliver suggested. “We could build a library in it to your specifications. It would be perfect.”

As much as he loved Verdant House, he almost hoped Laurel would embrace his idea. Because if she did, he and Thea could sell off the rest of their assets and start fresh. There was enough here in the inn that gain them enough money to make a good go of things. 

“Oh no,” she said immediately. “I want to live here. Verdant House will be the most perfect home for us.”

“But—“

“Verdant House is part of the reason I fell in love with you in the first place,” she told him. 

That shocked him. “It is? Why?” 

“It showed me that you were a responsible man. There were so many rumors of you around Starling when I first moved here, about the carousing you and Tommy engaged in before the Great War. I didn’t know if you were serious or not. But this inn showed me that you were serious.”

Oliver’s heart sank. He had to keep the inn. He could not let Verdant House turn over to the bank. Laurel might leave him, otherwise, and he wasn’t sure he could bear to lose her. 

“If you’re sure then,” he said to her, his voice weak to his own ears. 

“Positive.” Laurel looped her arms around his neck and smiled at him, her eyes lighting up. “I cannot wait to become your wife and the mistress of Verdant House for many years to come.”

He smiled at her, for her. “And so you will be,” he promised her. 

Tonight, he’d talk with Tommy, tell him that he wanted to join the operation in Canada. It was the only way he knew to gain the money they needed to save Verdant House before New Years. 

***

_December 13, 2016_

“Where are you sleeping?” Felicity asked Oliver as she helped him clear the dinner plates from the table. He’d cooked them both a rather lovely meal of chicken and rice and she’d found some wine in the cellar for them to share. The red vintage left her feeling warm and comfortable. 

“I don’t sleep,” he muttered as he stacked the plates in the sink to wash. 

“Don’t sleep?” Felicity couldn’t fathom it. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” he asked. 

“Because. You’re clearly _real_ , you have a body and you eat like a horse, so that tells me you have normal physical needs.” She fought a blush as she briefly wondered what other _physical needs_ he might have. “I figured sleep was one of those needs.”

“I told you. I only get twelve days a year. I don’t like to waste that time with sleeping.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “So you just drive yourself to exhaustion instead?”

His mouth hardened into a thin line. “It’s better than what I see when I allow myself to sleep.”

She remembered what he’d said about his time as a ghost being like a nightmare and snapped her mouth shut. There was so much about his experience that she didn’t know or understand. She found herself wanting to know though, wanting to understand what made this man so closed off and brooding. It couldn’t just be the fact that he was a ghost. There was something else going on and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

“Okay, you do whatever you want. But no coming into my room,” Felicity said, wagging a finger at him. 

He looked a little peeved at that. “Why on earth would you worry about that?”

“I don’t know, you’re a ghost. You haunt people.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I promise not to haunt you. Your sleep is safe from me.”

She nodded. “Good.”

They finished up the dishes in silence and Felicity caught him sneaking little glances at her as they worked. It was starting to unnerve her, make her think that she had food in her teeth or something. 

“What is it?” she finally asked as she dried her hands on a dish towel. 

Oliver shrugged. “I never asked what you were doing here.”

She chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You were too concerned with trying to get me to _leave_. I’m in town visiting my mother.”

“For the Christmas holiday? Why are you staying here and not with her?”

“Because, she lives in a tiny one bedroom apartment over the pub in town and I didn’t want to be crowded in on top of her for two weeks. I didn’t realize her place was so small when I came up here to visit.”

“So you’re not from Starling?”

Felicity shook her head. “I live in Central City. My boss insisted I take a vacation because apparently I’ve been working too hard or something like that.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “And what does your husband think of you coming up here by yourself?”

“You’re serious?” she asked him, and then burst out laughing. 

“Why is that funny?”

“Because… I’m not married. In fact if you knew my dating history, you’d understand just how laughable that idea really is.”

Oliver looked legitimately surprised. “Are you engaged? Have a serious beau?”

“Nope and nope. Just broke up with my boyfriend, actually. Or, he broke up with me. But it’s for the best.”

“Why is that?” he asked. 

She shifted her stance, a little uncomfortable with the personal turn this conversation had taken. “I don’t know, I just don’t really fall in love. Not terribly conducive to long relationships.”

Oliver had a thoughtful look and she could see more questions in his eyes but he didn’t say anything more about the subject. He just nodded and wished her good night. 

Felicity had a lot of thoughts swirling around in her mind as she walked into her bedroom upstairs. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, thinking over her last conversation with Oliver. She could understand why he might think she was married or at least had a boyfriend. Back in the 1920’s, it was fairly uncommon for a woman in her mid to late twenties to be unattached like she was. But what didn’t quite make sense was the way he reacted to the news of her being single. His surprise spoke of more than just cultural division. And the interest in his eyes made her wonder. If he hadn’t been, essentially, a ghost… she might think he was interested in her. 

She pushed that thought away as she pushed away from the door. Absolutely ridiculous. Plus, it was clear from the way he spoke of his memories of her that he was very much still caught up in how he felt about his former fiancée. 

Felicity was gathering up her pajamas to change into when she heard something strange. She paused, holding still, listening. It sounded like… whispers. 

Whispers or branches brushing the side of the house in a wind. But there was no wind at the moment. It was a soft hushing noise and she couldn’t make out any distinct words. Whatever it was, though, send a hard chill up her spine. Something about it felt sinister. 

It was probably just Oliver, she told herself. Maybe he thought it was funny to prank on her. While that seemed unlikely given the conversations they’d had that day, she literally had no other explanation for it. 

Either way, before she climbed into bed she not only locked the door to her room, but she pushed a chair under knob as well. 

***

_October 27, 1921_

“Ollie! What is this I hear about you running rum from Canada??” 

His sister’s voice was angry and Oliver winced at the volume. He shushed her and pulled her into their father’s old study. 

“Thea, what on earth are you talking about?” he asked her once the door was shut behind them. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she said, her hazel eyes snapping angrily. “I heard it from Tommy. I wanted to know where this last influx of cash we had to pay for the repairs to the roof came from and he told me it came from Damien Darhk.”

Oliver paced away from her, rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. How did his nearly 20 year old sister know who Damien Darhk was? “Thea, I’m not sure what you think you know…”

“I know that Damien Darhk is little better than a gangster. I’ve read the newspaper stories about him, about how his business in Seattle is just a cover for his illegal rum running operations,” Thea explained. 

“I’ve read the same stories, but I’m not sure what that man has to do with me,” Oliver said. 

“Don’t treat me as a child,” Thea said angrily. “I asked Tommy where the money you used to fix the roof yesterday came from and he told me it came from Damien Darhk. I can put two and two together.”

Oliver wanted to curse his sister’s inquisitiveness and her intelligence but he couldn’t. It was one of the things he was most proud of with her. She always thought for herself and he was glad for that. But at the same time, he absolutely did not want her to know about his dealings with Darhk north of the border. He’d only been on one rum run so far and it had gone well, but the entire process had left a foul taste in his mouth. 

As soon as he’d gotten home, the day before last, he’d promised himself that he would get out of the whole business just as soon as he had enough cash to save Verdant House. 

“Thea… it’s not as bad as it sounds,” he told her. 

“I can’t believe you!” she cried. “Why would you get mixed up in such a nasty business!”

“I need to save Verdant House,” he explained. “This the only way I can do that.”

“I think you’re making a vast mistake. I’ve heard more stories about Darhk than are published in the papers. He’s an evil man and getting mixed up with him is foolish.”

Oliver had heard those stories as well. But he also didn’t appreciate his little sister lecturing him either. “Thea, let me take care of this. I know what I’m doing.”

“Does Tommy? Because you know he’s just as poor at making decisions as you are,” Thea said. 

“Enough!” he yelled. “Thea, leave this business to me and mind the matters that suit you.”

“Like the guests and the party planning and the decorations?” she said with a sneer. “Thanks, Ollie. I never felt like you thought less of me for being a woman until this very moment.”

Oliver immediately regretted what he’d said. He didn’t mean it and he hated that Thea now believed he thought less of her. “Thea, I’m sorry…”

“You know what? You can save your apology, Ollie.”

He watched helplessly as Thea stormed out of the study, slamming the door behind her. He knew she was right about Darhk… it was clear the man was dangerous. But Oliver felt as though he was backed into a corner. Saving Verdant House was the most important thing. If he had to sell his soul, even just a piece of it, to achieve that… then so be it. 

However, later on that day he started to rethink that a little when Laurel came by the house and found him in the kitchen preparing dinner for his sister and the guests. 

“Are you staying for the meal, Laurel?” he asked her. 

She shook her head. “I just had a talk with Thea,” she said. 

Oliver stopped what he was doing and looked at her. Laurel’s expression was not the open, affectionate countenance he was used to seeing. Her eyes were stormy, her arms were crossed. Suddenly, he knew exactly what his new fiancée and his sister had spoken about. 

“Laurel…” he began. 

She held up her hand and turned her face away. “No, there is no excuse for this. Oliver, I can’t believe you would even consider doing this. Not only is it dangerous but it is _illegal_. You could end up in prison!”

“Laurel, Tommy and I are being very careful,” he told her. “I have to do this to save the inn.”

“What will happen to Verdant House if you’re caught? Or Thea? Or _me_?” she demanded. Tears shone in her eyes, and the sight twisted Oliver’s gut unpleasantly.

“Laurel, we’re not going to get caught,” he told her. “I have this all under control and I have a _plan_.” 

She shook her head at him. “This just makes me wonder if you’re really the man I thought you were,” she said. Before he could reply, she marched out of the room. 

Oliver was outraged. He immediately went in search of Tommy and found him out behind the inn, gathering more firewood from the pile to bring and stock the fireplace caddies. 

“What were you thinking, telling Thea about our business north of the border?” Oliver said.

“I was telling her the truth, Ollie,” he replied. “You should try that sometime, telling your sister the truth.”

“Well, she gave me grief about it and then went and told Laurel. Now Laurel is furious with me.” 

“I thought you told me that Laurel was so keen to keep this inn and live here,” Tommy said. “Shouldn’t she be happy you’re doing something to make that wish of hers come true?”

“She thinks we may get arrested for it. She doesn’t approve of me engaging in illegal activities.”

“But it’s okay for me to do it?” Tommy asked, his voice tinged with bitterness. 

Oliver knew that Tommy had feelings for Laurel. They’d both had a similar interest in her when she arrived in town, but it was Oliver who made the better impression on her, and so it was him that she had given her affections to. He had long suspected that Tommy was upset about that, but this was the first time he wondered that maybe he’d done something to deliberately sabotage his burgeoning relationship with Laurel. 

Tommy was his oldest friend. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him. But he was in love with Laurel, she was engaged to become his wife. Oliver simply could not overlook his future simply to preserve his friend’s feelings. 

He only hoped that he could get Laurel to understand why he was doing this. As soon as she saw that this was the only way to save Verdant House, he was sure she would come around. 

***

_December 14, 2016_

Felicity sat up in bed, her tablet open in her lap. She’d finally found a signal, albeit a weak one. It had to have been from a neighboring property. It wasn’t strong, but it was enough for her to do some research on the history of Verdant House. 

It was built about five years after the end of the Civil War by Oliver’s grandfather, Jonas Queen. It was turned into an inn after the death of Oliver’s parents in 1916. Currently, it was listed on a number of “Top 10 Haunted Houses in America” lists across the internet. But, from what she gathered, no one had any interactions with Oliver himself, which she thought was a good thing. The last thing the poor guy needed was his name all over the internet and sensationalized for ghost-seekers. 

She was just reading something about what became of Verdant House just after Oliver Queen’s disappearance when she was interrupted by a noise. It was a series of strange thumping noises that she hadn’t heard before. It reminded her of that whispering she heard last night before going to sleep. 

The hairs on her arms stood up and Felicity set her tablet aside and grabbed her robe from where it lay draped over an armchair. She slipped it on over her tank top and matryoshka dolls pajama pants before pulling the chair from under the doorknob and unlocking the door. 

It was quiet out in the hallway but she could still hear some strange scraping sounds. It sounded like it was happening right over her head. Last night, she’d told herself it was just Oliver trying to scare her, but something made her doubt that. If it was another ghost, a more hostile presence… she wanted to know about it. 

Felicity recalled the rounded “turret” at the front of the beautiful old house and how it looked to have a third floor. She hadn’t gone exploring before so she wasn’t even sure where to find the stairs up to that third floor. She started towards the front of the house, where the turret sat in the western corner. 

She found a small sitting room that was tucked in a corner between two bedrooms. The windows looked out on the snowy landscape below. And there was a small, narrow staircase tucked against the far wall. 

She could hear the noises even clearer now, sounding right above her head. Felicity started up the stairs slowly and carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

There was no door at the top of the stairs and as she crested the stairs, she saw that the space was being used as an attic storage, of sorts. Boxes and furniture and various paraphernalia filled the space. And at the opposite end of the room, near the large windows, was a standing mirror and right in front of that mirror was… Oliver Queen. 

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat. 

He was ironing his shirt using a rather old fashioned looking iron. He was shirtless with just his trousers on, his suspenders hanging at his sides. She became mesmerized by the play of muscles in his back as he ironed the shirt. He was far more muscled and defined than she’d ever have expected. His arms strong and thick, his shoulders were broad and his body tapered down to a trim waist that Felicity suddenly itched to feel beneath her fingers. His trousers sagged a bit, making her want to give them a tug and see how easily they might just give way and fall to the floor. 

She stepped forward and one of her feet found a loose and squeaky floorboard. Oliver whirled around, clearly shocked to find her standing there. Felicity could feel her cheeks warming as she blushed at being caught staring at him. But then… her eyes betrayed her as they drifted down over his muscled chest, over his washboard abs and down to the buttons to his trousers, which were open. She could see the edge of underwear ( _what sort of underwear did men wear in 1921,_ she wondered), and the dusky trail of hair leading from his bellybutton down into waistband of said underwear. 

Her breath wasn’t just caught in her throat, it was gone altogether. 

“Felicity.” 

He spoke sharply enough that she knew he’d not only noticed her staring (and, mostly like, _where_ she was staring), but that he’d tried to get her attention already and was having difficulty. 

_Oops_. 

She jerked her eyes up to his and found him looking more than a little exasperated. She wanted to feel bad about making him uncomfortable, but the view was so delightful that she couldn’t bring herself to regret the gawking one bit. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked. 

“I asked what the devil you were doing up here?” he said, irritated. “This is technically _my_ room and considering the way you insisted I stay out of _your_ room yesterday, I would have thought you’d extend the same courtesy.”

Fair enough. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard… noises.”

“Noises?” One of his eyebrows lifted. He was still doing nothing to either yank up (or close) his trousers or pull on a shirt and Felicity was having a hard time ignoring the temptation of staring at him again. 

_Focus, Felicity. Focus._ “Yes, thumping noises.” 

“And it didn’t occur to you that it might be me, up here?”

“It did,” she said, feeling a little defensive now. “But I heard some other noises last night as I was getting ready for bed. Like whispering.”

“Whispering? You mean voices?”

Felicity nodded. “Yes. Almost like it was in the walls.” She shuddered a little, hugging herself with her arms. “At first thought it was you, but then I realized that didn’t sound quite like your style.”

The corner of his lips quirked. “No, not quite my style.”

“So what _is_ your style of haunting then?” she asked. 

He shrugged smoothly and her eyes were drawn unconsciously to his muscular shoulders. “Slamming doors. Moving items around when the person isn’t looking. Unlocking doors.”

She glared at him then, finally distracted away from his physique. 

He smirked back knowingly. 

“You better not go in my room,” she told him. 

“Why not? You’re in my room right this minute. Seems only fair that I return the favor.”

With one final glare, she turned on her heel and marched down the stairs, aggravated at having been caught out so easily as that. But her irritation eased some when she heard the sound of his chuckle following after her. 

***

Felicity took a quick shower and got herself dressed in jeans and a sweater. When she walked out onto the landing to go downstairs, Oliver was right behind her. He smiled charmingly at her, gesturing her to proceed him down the stairs. Suspicious of his lighter nature today, she went ahead of him. 

Voices came from the dining room and she followed them to find Quentin and her mother standing there, talking and laughing. She stopped in the doorway, a little startled, and Oliver stopped right behind her. 

“Oh! Sweetie! There you are!” Donna hurried over and embraced Felicity, a whirl of blonde hair, French perfume and sequins. Felicity hugged her back. 

“I wasn’t expecting you here today, Mom,” she said. 

Donna drew back and flashed her a bright smile. “I haven’t seen you since the day before yesterday! I know I was busy talking with contractors about the water damage yesterday but I still missed you!”

It was then that her mother noticed Oliver standing behind her. Donna’s blue eyes widened almost comically. “Well, hello!Who is your friend, Felicity?”

Felicity choked. She knew that tone from her mother, what she _really_ meant. “Uh, he’s not my… I mean, we’re not… He’s… uh…”

Donna lifted an eyebrow and nudged Felicity to the side. She stuck her hand out to Oliver. “Hello. My name is Donna Smoak. You are?”

Oliver darted a glance at Felicity and Quentin both before shaking her mother’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Smoak. I’m—“

“Jonas. This is Jonas. King. He’s uh… a guest here. At Verdant House,” Felicity quickly cut in. 

He furrowed his eyebrows at her briefly but recovered and flashed a charming smile at Donna. “Yes, Jonas. I’m visiting from San Francisco for the holiday.”

“Oh! Well, isn’t that lovely,” she said, practically cooing. “Don’t you think that’s lovely, Felicity?”

She just hummed, not wanting to encourage her mother’s inner matchmaker. 

“I suppose the inn isn’t as closed for the holidays as you’d planned it to be, is it, Quentin?”

Quentin shuffled his feet a little nervously. “Well. He needed a place to stay and since Felicity was already here…” He shrugged. 

“Well, isn’t that nice of you,” Donna said, batting her eyelashes at him. 

“So what were you two talking about when I got down here?” Felicity asked, hoping to break up the tension between her mother and Mr. Lance. Not that it wasn’t kinda adorable but it was also a little uncomfortable, especially given the way Oliver was staring at the two of them. 

“I was telling Quentin what the contractors told me about the pub,” her mother said with a pout. 

“Which is?” 

“The damage and the pipes can’t be repaired until the Monday _after_ Christmas. I mean, I can do what I can in the meantime to get water up, but everything that’s already been damaged can’t be fixed until then,” she explained. 

“Oh no!” Felicity cried. “That’s a week and a half of staying closed! All that business you’ll lose!”

“Which is bad enough, but I could live with that. The bad news is, though, that it means we won’t be able to have the annual town Christmas Eve party and dance there like we usually do.”

That got Oliver’s attention. “Christmas Eve party and dance?” he asked. 

“Oh yes! It’s a Starling tradition, going back over a hundred years,” she told him. “The Queen family used to hold the party and dance right here at Verdant House. In recent years, since before I bought the pub, in fact, it’s been held there.”

Felicity watched Oliver, noticing the curious expression on his face. Of course he would remember those parties… he’d probably been responsible for holding them himself before he’d died. But he almost looked… upset at the memory. She made a mental note to ask him about it later. 

“Maybe we could hold the party here,” Felicity suggested, looking to Quentin for confirmation. 

He nodded immediately. “I think that’d be a great idea.”

“I think it’s a terrible idea,” Oliver cut in. 

Donna looked startled and it was no wonder. After all, as far as she knew, he was some guest from far out of town and why would he have any opinion on it?“Excuse me?” she asked. 

“I just…” he trailed off, looking to Felicity for help. But she didn’t know why he would object either. Unless he was still doing that same old grumpy ghost routine. Old habits died hard, she guessed? 

“Maybe he’s just thinking that it would be too much for Quentin to plan. But we’ll help him out, won’t we?” Felicity said. 

Oliver glowered at her but Quentin smiled and nodded. Donna clapped her hands. “Oh, wonderful! I feel much better now, I would so hate to cancel the tradition this year. I’ll need to call Jerry in to tend bar here in the inn tavern—“

“That won’t be necessary,” Oliver said. “If there’s going to be anyone tending bar that night, it will be me.”

Everyone turned to look at him, matching expressions of surprise on their faces. A minute ago he’d been against having the party there at all and now he wanted to tend bar? 

“That’s very sweet of you, Mr. King,” Donna said, “but Jerry has been tending bar for me since I bought the pub. He’s very good!”

“I promise you, I’m better.”

Felicity didn’t know what to say. When her mother looked at her, she just shrugged. 

“Why don’t you let me prove it,” Oliver suggested. “Provide me with some spirits and I will mix you any drink you request. And some you might not even think of.”

Donna’s smile relaxed and she grinned at him. “Well, aren’t you a surprise. Okay, you’re on, hotshot. Felicity, will you come with me into town to gather some of the alcohol? We’ll bring it back here and Jonas can show us what he knows.”

“Err…” Felicity wasn’t so sure about leaving, especially when she was still so focused on working through this mystery with Oliver. But he nodded at her encouragingly. 

“Go on with your mother,” he told her. “I’ll be waiting here when you return.”

Well. On that she had no doubts whatsoever. Where else could he go?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver meets Donna, defends his bar keeping honor and he and Felicity have a falling out.

Later on that evening, with their bellies full of homemade chili that Oliver had spent the better part of the day crafting in the kitchen, they gathered in the tavern/ballroom at the rear of the house to sample drinks.

“Where did you learn to make chili like that?” Felicity asked him, patting her stomach. 

“My grandfather, actually. He and I were very close,” Oliver told her. 

“It was marvelous, Jonas,” Donna said. “I’ve never had better. You should sell that recipe. You’d make a fortune.”

He smirked at that as he stepped behind the bar in the corner of the room. Bottles had been stacked on the bar-top and Oliver took a moment to arrange them on the shelves behind the bar in whatever manner he preferred. Felicity perched on a stool next to her mother and watched. Quentin took the stool next to her mother and Felicity didn’t miss the way the two of them smiled at each other. 

Oliver was peeling a lemon and smiling at Quentin and her mother, looking far more relaxed than he had earlier. Felicity wondered if Quentin had said anything to him while she and her mother were out fetching the booze. When he finished with the lemon, he took some cognac, triple sec and lemon juice and shook them together in a cocktail shaker. Then he poured equal amounts in two martini glasses (he was abstaining and Quentin didn’t drink alcohol), tossed a green olive in each and garnished the rim with a curl of lemon peel. He pushed the finished drinks across the bar, first towards her mother and then towards her.

“This is a Sidecar,” he told them. He watched eagerly as they each took a sip. 

Her mother made a groaning noise as she set her glass down again. “Jonas! This is amazing!” she cried. 

Oliver blushed a little, which Felicity found adorable. 

“It’s really good,” she agreed, taking another drink. It was strong, but it had a really interesting flavor. 

“Thanks,” he said, meeting her eye. 

She winked and slid off the barstool, taking her drink in hand and walking away across the ballroom to look at the art on the walls. A moment later, she was joined by Quentin. 

“Do you mind me asking why you don’t drink?” Felicity asked. 

“Not at all,” he said. “I, uh… had a drinking problem about seven years ago. I was getting a divorce from my wife and everything was up in the air. I finally started going to AA meetings and have been drink-free now for two years straight.” 

“Oh… I’m so sorry,” she said. 

Quentin smiled a little wryly. “It’s okay, don’t feel bad. I’m getting better and there’s no more drinking,” he said. 

“What about dating again? Have you tried that?” she asked. 

Quentin’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh… I don’t know… I don’t really get out very much…”

Felicity grinned. “Come on. I see you flirting with my mom.”

His cheeks turned pink and Felicity thought it was such an adorable thing to see. “I, er, I was just—“

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I don’t mind. I think it’s… nice. She hasn’t had anyone steady in years, actually.”

“She doesn’t talk much about your father, I noticed.”

At the mention of the man who’d left them both so callously all those years ago, Felicity felt some of her happiness fade. “It was a hard time. For both of us. When she’s ready, she’ll tell you.”

Quentin’s eyes were concerned but he nodded. 

“So why haven’t you asked her out yet?” Felicity wanted to know, switching gears. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I just… it’s been so long. And what if she just sees me as a friend…”

“I think she might surprise you,” Felicity said, giving him a wink. “You’re both adults, you both flirt up a storm together… why not give it a shot.”

“I’ll think about it,” Quentin promised. 

“That’s all I can ask.”

They rejoined Donna and Oliver over at the bar. He was serving her another drink now, something he called a “Hanky Panky” that was made with gin and sweet vermouth with a few dashes of something called Fernet Branca that Felicity hadn’t ever heard of before. Her mother swore it was the best cocktail she’d ever tasted. 

“You’re hired!” she declared. “Who need’s Jerry?”

“Jerry who?” Oliver said with a smirk. 

“Exactly,” Donna agreed. Then she looked around her at the ballroom and sighed happily. “I’m glad we’re able to hold the dance here. This old place has always seemed so romantic to me.”

Felicity had to agree she had a point, but Quentin and Oliver exchanged dubious glances. 

“It’s just an inn,” Quentin said. “Albeit a pretty one.”

“Oh, it’s all in the history,” Donna assured him. “Not just the age of the building, but the events that took place within her walls. Love and heartbreak and scandal… I was reading up a while back about Thomas Merlyn and Laurel Lance… Laurel had been the fiancée of Oliver Queen until he disappeared but then she married Thomas just a month after his body was found in the woods! Then a baby came so soon after that and apparently everyone in town was talking about the strange timing. Maisie from the boutique was telling me that her grandmother always told the story that the baby was really Oliver’s.”

Donna didn’t even notice how Oliver had gone totally stiff, but Felicity did. She noticed. “Felicity,” he whispered.

“Apparently, the baby died right after birth and Laurel not long after that. So tragic. That whole family, really. I heard Thea Queen, the only living heir when Oliver died, went into a spiral—“

There as a clatter as Oliver set down the glass he’d been drying and stalked out of the room. Donna looked surprised at his abrupt exit, but Quentin looked concerned and Felicity’s heart went out to the guy. From this reaction, she didn’t think he’d known any of this. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said to both of them before she followed after Oliver. 

She found him in the attic room, pacing. He looked distraught, his hands plowing through his hair and his eyes dark and stormy. She stood at the top of the stairs, unsure how best to comfort him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. 

Oliver stopped pacing and stood with his back to her, his shoulders hunched. He was quiet for a long moment and she just waited. Finally, he sighed and turned to face her, beckoning her forward. 

“You didn’t know about the baby, did you?” she asked. 

“No, I did not,” he confirmed, his voice hoarse. “That baby might have been mine. I’m not sure what feels worse, the possibility that child was mine or that it didn’t survive.”

“Can’t it be both?” 

He nodded. “It can be both. It’s definitely both. I never even— she never said anything, Felicity.”

A lump grew in her throat and she tried to swallow past it. 

“Maybe she didn’t know the last time you saw her. When was it?” she asked. 

“About two weeks before Christmas,” he answered. He turned sorrowful eyes on her and Felicity felt her heart go out to him. “That might have been my only chance to have a child. A piece of me to live on.”

“I know.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, willing him some comfort. Emotion was crowding inside her chest, making it feel tight. Felicity wasn’t used to this and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. She wanted to ease his pain but she had no way to do that and no right to provide it if she did. They were _barely_ friends. 

She was starting to worry that she was becoming entirely too attached to tragic Oliver Queen.

“I don’t like that my life became… gossip fodder. It’s insulting.”

Felicity nodded. “My mother didn’t know,” she said as a way of apology. 

He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The poor man looked exhausted. “I know she didn’t. It’s hardly her fault; she’s not the first one to gossip about it, I know. But it’s _my_ life.”

Felicity lifted a hand and hesitated for a moment before setting it on his arm. He felt so warm beneath her fingers. “It is your life. And I’m so sorry you weren’t there to live the rest of it. Do you think the baby was yours?”

“Yes. No… I don’t know,” he said. He pulled away and paced some more. “I suppose there is no way to know for sure, is there?”

“I can look into it. If you want me to,” she offered. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. So quietly, she almost didn’t hear him. He stopped pacing again, this time looking out the windows. “I didn’t know Laurel’s fate. I purposefully avoided any news articles or information about her. I didn’t want to know. After I learned that she’d married Tommy, I refused to discover any more. But I didn’t know about the baby or that she’d died after giving birth.”

Felicity knew that he considered the woman he loved marrying his best friend to be a betrayal, it had likely been source of his discontent for years. “Does this change how you feel?” she asked. “About the betrayal?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “She was angry with me, you know. The last time I saw her, we had an argument.”

Felicity joined him at the window and together, they looked out over the snow covered yard in front of the inn. 

“I’ve spent the better part of 95 years being angry with her and Tommy but maybe I should have focused that anger on myself more than anything else. Everything that happened after I died was my fault.”

“What happened?” she asked, already afraid to find out. 

Oliver gestured to an old, velveteen chaise. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you.”

***

_December 12, 1921_

Laurel followed Oliver into his bedroom, where he pulled a knapsack from the top of his wardrobe and tossed it on the middle of the deep red bedspread. Then, he started pulling open drawers on his dresser, pulling out clothes and tossing them towards the bed as well. 

“So you’re just going to leave? With Christmas almost here?” she asked, her fists on her hips. 

“Laurel…” he started, already tired of this argument. Ever since he’d started working with Darhk, they’d gone around and around on this issue. She’d made it clear how she felt and he’d made it clear that this was something he had to do to save the inn. It was a circular argument and Oliver didn’t see much point in going over it yet again. 

“Don’t just brush me off, Ollie,” she said. “This is _Christmas_. We’re hosting the annual dance this year, in case you’d forgotten.”

“I hadn’t forgotten. I’m sure you and Thea will have no trouble handling the preparations in my stead.” He didn’t need much for the trip, just a few pairs of trousers, some long underwear, and some sweaters. He’d wear his wool coat and hat and boots on the journey north through the woods. 

“But what about Christmas itself?” she asked. “This was to be our first Christmas together, our last before we are married. I wanted to spend it with _you_.” 

Oliver sighed and set the knapsack down. He took her in his arms to hug her. She was stiff but she put her arms around him as well. “We will have countless Christmases to share together.”

“Why can’t we have this one as well?”

He released her and stepped back. “You know why. This trip will supply me with enough money to save Verdant House from the bank. If I don’t provide that money by January 1 st , they will the inn from us. I have no choice here, Laurel.”

“You do have a choice,” she insisted. “You can choose me, choose your family.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he replied. “I wish you could see that.”

Laurel sighed and turned from him to look out the window. “Can you promise me that you’ll be back in time for Christmas?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “That’s less than two weeks away now, and it takes a couple days as it is to get up there…”

“If you can’t value me enough to be back here for the holiday, then perhaps you don’t value me enough to marry me either.”

Oliver was stunned at the deliberate sting of her words. He knew that Laurel tended to lash out when she was upset, but he’d always found the trait rather charming on her. Then again, he’d never seen it pointed this sharply in his direction before. 

He didn’t want to lose her. Laurel was part of the reason he was doing this in the first place, leaving home to run rum north of the border and risking his neck for the last several months. He wanted her to have everything she wanted, he wanted to keep her happy. This was how he could do that. 

“You know I value you,” he said patiently. “Please don’t doubt that I do.”

Tears filled Laurel’s eyes and he hated himself for being the one to put them there. 

“I don’t want to doubt it, but Ollie, you running rum scares me!” 

“I know it does,” he said. “With this last shipment, I can save the inn and I can tell Darhk that I’m done.”

“And you think he’ll just let you go?” She sounded doubtful. 

“He’ll have to. I won’t give him a choice.”

“Ollie, it won’t be that easy. Darhk is a dangerous man with a lot of connections…”

“Shhh, let me worry about that.” He stepped forward to embrace her again but she backed away from him. 

“Promise me,” Laurel said, her voice shaking. “Promise me you’ll be back in time for Christmas.”

The timing was nearly impossible. But for her, he would promise anything. “I’ll be here Christmas Eve,” he promised. 

“I expect you to keep that promise,” she said before turning on her heel and walking out of his room. 

He didn’t see her again before he left with Tommy through the woods an hour later. He’ll spend 95 years wishing he’d had one last chance to hold her. 

***

_December 14, 2016_

They sat quiet for a moment after Oliver finished telling her about his last moments with Laurel before leaving for Canada. 

The tightness in Felicity’s chest grew until it burned. She got up from the chaise and walked away, needing some space. An old hurt rose within her and she felt her eyes burn on behalf of poor Laurel Lance and the unborn child she’d carried. 

“You lied to her,” Felicity accused when the feeling in her chest would no longer allow her to remain silent. 

Oliver stood and walked to her. “I did not. I was on my way back to her when I was killed.”

“I saw the articles. You were discovered on December 26. You promised to be back by Christmas Eve.”

Oliver’s brows drew together. “It was still Christmas Eve when I came through the woods behind this house,” he insisted. His expression changed then, a bit of a guilty look crowding in. “Maybe just barely though.”

“She was counting on you,” Felicity said. “She likely knew she was pregnant by Christmas Eve and she needed you to be there for her and the baby.”

This was hitting close to home. _So_ close. And Felicity was having a hard time seeing past that. She knew that Oliver didn’t know about the baby, but he had promised and he broke that promise in the end. It suddenly felt so much like when her own father had left her and her mother. Felicity had been so young, but she still could feel the hard rejection of his leaving. Oliver had done the very same thing to Laurel and his unborn child. 

“I did not know if Laurel was pregnant, either before I left or when I was due to return. I’m still not convinced that it wasn’t Tommy’s child,” he said. 

That made her see red. It sounded like he was rejecting the child altogether and she felt that pain herself, deep in her heart. Suddenly, she could feel Laurel’s disappointment, hurt and abandonment as if it were her own. Because, in a way, it was. Laurel had tried to caution Oliver against leaving, had begged him to stay with her, and still he’d gone. And look how it had turned out… he’d died, the baby had died, Laurel had died. And for what? 

Felicity was outraged on Laurel’s behalf. And maybe her own too. She was allowing herself to get too damn close to this man. 

“We’ve been trying to figure out who killed you,” she said to him. “But maybe it was Laurel.”

Oliver looked as though he’d just been slapped and Felicity wondered if she’d crossed a line that she shouldn’t have. She was upset but that didn’t give her a right to hurt this man. At the same time, what must Laurel have felt when Oliver turned his back on her, knowing it was against her wishes?

He recovered quickly and a dark look crossed his features. “How dare you?”

“How dare _you_ leave her like that, leave the baby, leave her to what was probably a loveless marriage!”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear another word. We’re done here.”

Felicity nodded. “It’s probably best to give each other some space for the night—“

“No, I mean I’m done with this little experiment of ours,” he told her. His jaw was set and his blue eyes flashed angrily. “This was clearly a mistake, to let someone else in. To let _you_ in. I want you gone in the morning.”

“Oliver…”

“I said I’m done!” he shouted. 

Felicity felt a new pain in her chest, but this time it felt like something were splitting in half. Oliver turned away and strode across the room, to place as much distance as possible between them. 

He’d made himself clear. He wanted her to leave. With a heavy heart, Felicity descended the stairs and headed towards her room. 

***

_December 15, 2016_

Felicity stood in the kitchen of Verdant House, nursing a mug of coffee. She was putting off going upstairs to pack her bag and leave. To her own surprise, it wasn’t even because she dreaded sharing that tiny apartment with her mother. It was because she didn’t want to leave Verdant House. She didn’t want to leave _Oliver_. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Quentin’s gruff voice interrupted her morose thoughts. He hung his winter jacket on the hook beside the side door he’d just entered through. He stomped on the mat place there, dislodging snow from his boots. 

“Oliver wants me to leave,” she said. 

Quentin’s brow furrowed as he crossed to the coffee pot to pour himself a mug. “Is that why there’s no pancakes this morning?” he asked. “I was counting on having a stack before going out to chop some more firewood.”

“I’m serious, Quentin. We… had a fight last night.”

Felicity had spent the night, tossing and turning in that giant bed, the dark red sheets slipping against her skin but offering no comfort. She felt bad for how she’d lashed at Oliver. He’d opened up to her and she’d let his memory affect her at a personal level. He was not her father and she knew better. 

This was why she was such a disaster at relationships, she mused as she took another sip of her coffee. 

“What was the fight about?” Quentin asked. “The last I knew, Oliver ran out when Donna got to talking about that gossip and you went after him. Didn’t see you again and I drove Donna home soon after.”

“I followed him to make sure he was okay,” she said. “He shared a memory with me and… I got upset. I made it too personal.”

Quentin leaned against the counter and regarded her closely. “Too personal, eh?”

Felicity nodded. “I lost control of what was happening here.”

“And you have to control a lot, do you?”

“Yes, I always have control. I live my life that way,” she said. “It’s important, it helps keep things grounded. I lost that and because I lost it, I forgot what was real.”

“And what is real?”

“What is real is that this is 2016, not 1921. I am a real person, with a real life back in Central City. Oliver Queen may seem alive, but he’s not. He’s a ghost.”

“But he is real in that he has feelings, Felicity.”

“I know that. And I pushed a boundary I shouldn’t have last night. He has feelings that are tied up in people he knew in 1921 and I used that to hurt him because I was upset about my own life.”

There was silence for a moment as they both drank their coffee. Then, Quentin set his mug on the counter. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She shook her head. She didn’t talk to _anyone_ about her father, not even her mom. It might have happened twenty years ago, but the pain still felt like yesterday. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I just… lost sight for a minute.”

“It’s hard to wrap a person’s mind around. A man who is dead but for 12 days a year…” He shook his head and smirked. “Even I still have trouble with it from time to time.”

“So it’s not just me then?”

“It’s not just you.”

Felicity sat down at the table and grabbed a muffin that Oliver had made the day before and started to eat it. A moment later, Quentin joined her. 

“I often wonder what he was like when he was alive,” Felicity said, half to herself. “Was he this stubborn?”

“Probably. So you’re not really telling me about this fight. What was it really about?”

Sighing, Felicity told him about the memory Oliver had shared, about how Laurel had begged him not to go on his last run to Canada, how he’d promised and ultimately failed to return to home to her. Quentin listened and nodded as she told the story and looked thoughtful when she’d finished. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked. 

“That maybe you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” she cried and then clapped a hand over her mouth. That had come out a bit too loud. “Why on earth would you think I’m jealous??”

Quentin chuckled as he helped himself to a muffin as well. “I see how you look at him. You might be hiding it from him and yourself, but not from me.”

Her cheeks heated. “It’s _not_ jealousy. And even if it were, which I’m not saying that it is, it wouldn’t even matter because he wants me to leave. As in today. _Right now_ , in fact. He’s probably up in that attic right now, glaring at my car in the drive through the window.”

“So why are you still here then?” Quentin asked her. 

“That’s the million dollar question,” she murmured. 

“I think you’re here because you don’t want to leave, simple as that.”

“I don’t want to leave, that’s true.” Felicity eyed him. “How did you get so wise?”

He shrugged. “I have a daughter about your age.”

Her eyes widened. “You do? You never mentioned her before.”

“She doesn’t live in Starling. She’s out traveling all the time. Her name is Sara and she’s been quite the handful.”

“I’d love to meet her sometime,” Felicity said. 

Quentin smiled. “I hope you get the chance.”

“I wonder what she’d think of this situation. Have you told her about it?”

“Oh, no! No, I’ve kept it to myself. She’d probably think I was crazy if I tried to tell her,” he admitted. “Then she’d probably try to hit on him.”

She laughed at that. “She sounds like quite a character.”

“Oh, she is. She’d probably hit on you too.”

Felicity liked the sound of Sara Lance already. She bet the girl gave Quentin quite a few of his grey hairs, but she could also see the love shining in the older man’s eyes when he spoke of her. Again, she felt the pang of what she’d lost with her own father and the smile slipped from her face. 

“I think I sabotaged myself,” she finally said. “When I said what I did to Oliver last night… I think that was me trying to ruin this, before someone else could ruin it for me. Or… I don’t know.”

Quentin smiled in an understanding sort of way. “Sometimes when you haven’t had something for so long, you start thinking you can’t have it.”

Felicity blinked and then she nodded. Whether he knew it or not, she rather thought he’d hit the nail on the head. “Yeah. Maybe that’s it.”

“Listen… don’t give up on Oliver just yet,” Quentin suggested. “Apologize to him, talk to him, tell him what you’re thinking. I think he’ll listen to you.”

“I don’t know. He was really upset last night.”

“Yes, and that was last night. Give him a chance. I think he wants to figure all this out as much as you do, probably even more. And… he likes you.”

Felicity ducked her head. “I _know_ that’s not true…”

“Come on,” he said, giving her a deadpan look. “Give me some credit. I told you I see how you look at him? I see how he looks at you too.”

Now her cheeks felt like they were positively on fire. “He looks at me like he’d like to wring my neck half the time.”

“And the other half as though he’d like to do something altogether different.”

“Do you talk about things like this with your daughter?” she asked, trying to calm the flush in her face. 

Quentin snorted. “She’s the one who got me talking like this to start with.”

“Okay, let’s say you’re right. That he does… maybe… think of me like that… You didn’t see how angry he was. He meant it when he told me to leave.”

“I’m not denying that you upset him. But you can apologize.”

“He won’t give me the opportunity. Do you see him down here? No. He’s waiting until I leave.”

“I’m not saying it won’t be difficult to apologize,” Quentin told her. “But I am saying that it’s worth it to try.”

“But why? It’s not like we’d have any future together.”

“You’re not doing this with him because you think he’s cute, Felicity. You’re doing it because it’s the right thing to do. You want to help. So… help him.”

Damn it. He was right. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity is determined to make things up to Oliver and they spend a lovely day together.

Oliver stood in the attic room, his hands in his trouser pockets, staring out at the leaden sky. It would likely snow later on today with a sky like that. He couldn’t help but notice that Felicity’s vehicle was still parked in the drive and he wasn’t sure whether the sight of it irritated him or relieved him.

Ever since the night before, Oliver hadn’t been able to think of much else than the fight he’d had with Felicity. He was still hurt at her anger and suggestion that Laurel might have killed him because he’d lied to her. At first, he thought it was because the notion that Laurel would have done such a thing was offensive. Laurel loved him! And he loved her! But then Oliver started to realize what really was bothering him was how upset Felicity was that he had lied, that she thought he’d willfully abandoned his fiancée and unborn child. 

Somehow, in the handful of days he’d known her, Felicity had become important to him. Her opinion of him had become important too. 

He’d yelled at her and told her to leave. At the time, he’d meant it. He’d been so angry, so hurt. It had felt good to really let his emotions out like that. It felt like he hadn’t done it in…well… forever. 

But he hated the thought that he might have hurt her too. All morning, he’d been watching the windows, waiting to see if she’d leave. But she hadn’t yet. Quentin was here and he imagined they were downstairs talking. Probably about him, he mused. 

He should go downstairs and speak to both of them. Oliver had just resolved to do just that when he turned and saw a figure standing near the stairs down to the second level. It was… 

“Laurel?” he whispered. 

She stood there, wearing the same dress he’d last seen her wearing that day he’d left for Canada. Her expression was hard to read. It wasn’t smiling, nor was it angry. It was… blank. Which sent a shiver chasing down his spine 

He stepped forward. “Laurel?”

She shook her head and turned to leave. In an instant… she was gone. 

Oliver stopped and blinked a few times. There was no one there. Had he imagined her? Or was there more than one ghost haunting Verdant House? What did it mean that she would show up now, especially when his thoughts were filled with another woman. 

***

After her talk with Quentin, Felicity felt resolved to make things better with Oliver. She found she hated being on the outs with him. After Quentin finished with the firewood, he left for town, telling her he had things to do. She rather thought he wanted to give her and Oliver some privacy, which made her want to blush all over again. 

But she did have an idea. She really hoped it would work. 

After her muffin and coffee, she went up to her room to shower and get dressed. She put her suitcase away, not planning to leave Verdant House anytime soon. She bundled up this time, putting on long underwear underneath her jeans and layering her shirts. She put on her boots with several pairs of socks and found her gloves and a scarf and even a wool beanie to wear. Once she felt suitably bundled up, she walked out the back door of the inn, grabbed the saw from next to the wood pile, and set off into the woods surrounding the house. 

The sky overhead was dark and heavy and there was a stillness in the air that prickled her awareness. Is this what people meant when they felt snow was coming? She quickened her steps through the knee-deep snow, wanting to be back to the inn before any flakes started flying. 

It took an hour of trudging through the woods to find what she’d been looking for. The spruce tree was shorter than the other trees around her but still taller than she was. It was bushy and wide with plenty of tips to hang ornaments off of. She smiled at it and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She snapped a quick picture and texted it to Quentin, asking what he thought of it. 

He replied right away that it was a fine tree and that decorating a tree with Oliver might be just the way to make things up to him. 

Felicity asked if he could bring over some lights and ornaments and he said he would. He also said there were some boxes of old decorations in the attic she might want to go through as well. 

With that all sorted, she stashed her phone back in her pocket and got to cutting the tree down. She had to clear the snow away from the base of the tree so she could see the trunk and so she could kneel down to make sure she got a good, straight cut. 

Felicity was a pretty precise person and she wanted to get this right. She took her time to line up the saw before she began to cut. It was hard to manage alone, with no one to stabilize the tree while she worked, but she managed and about ten minutes later, the tree toppled down into the snow. She pumped her fist in victory. 

The walk back to the inn was much quicker now that she wasn’t scouting for trees. Her heart was light and she was really excited to show the tree to Oliver. She really hoped he liked it. Considering when (and likely _how_ ) he died, it was possible that Oliver wasn’t a fan of Christmas at all. But she was hoping he was. This was her first time decorating a Christmas tree… the most she’d ever done was light a menorah at this time of year… but she was excited to try something new. 

More than that, she was excited to do this with Oliver. 

What Quentin had said to her, about the way Oliver looked at her, was still rattling around in her mind. Could it be possible that maybe he… liked her? Each time she found herself wondering, she’d push the thought away. The man was clearly still hung up on his dead fiancée. Plus, he was a ghost. If that didn’t scream _unavailable_ then she didn’t know what did. 

Still, there was an additional hop in her step as she dragged the heavy tree through the snow back towards the inn. 

Once she arrived at the back porch, she leaned the tree up against the railing and then went inside to get changed. Her jeans and socks and even her shirts were all wet from wrestling the snow covered tree around and she could tell her hair was coming out of her ponytail. She needed to freshen up. 

She stepped inside the side door to the kitchen and stamped her feet on the mat. Then she kicked off her boots and nudged them to the side with the other boots. She padded upstairs, looking for signs of Oliver and seeing none. The inn was quiet. 

Two minutes later she was corrected on that. She’d just locked the door to her bedroom and started to peel off her wet layers of clothing when she heard some noises. At first, she thought it was Oliver. There was the banging of a door somewhere that echoed through the walls and some strange scraping noises. 

Quickly, she changed, throwing on some clean, dry clothes and pulling out her ponytail holder. She ran her fingers through her hair and went to open her bedroom door but… it was stuck. 

She tried again, jiggling the handle. It was unlocked, the knob would turn, but the door was stuck fast and would not budge. Her heart leapt into her throat as she struggled with it. 

That’s when she heard the whispers. Before, she’d heard the whispering voice but not what that voice was saying. This time, she could hear some words. And those words sent ice through her veins. 

“ _Go… away…_ ” the voice rasped, sounding as though it was coming from all around her. 

She cried out, her fear getting the best of her. “Oliver!” She banged on the door. 

“ _GO! AWAY!_ ” the voice repeated, louder this time. 

Felicity turned away from the door, bringing her hands up to cover her ears. That was _not_ Oliver. Whatever that was, whoever’s ghost that was… it was not Oliver and it was someone who was far, far more sinister. 

“Stop,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. 

An instant later, her door flew open and she jumped, screaming. Then, she was surrounded by warm, by strong arms, holding her tight and close. She clung to that warmth, her arms going around the person who held her. 

“Shhh, shhh…” a voice in her ear whispered. A _real_ voice. A hand smoothed down her back. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

The whispering stopped. The banging and scraping stopped. The only noise was her harsh breathing and the thumping of the heart underneath her ear. Felicity drew back and looked up to see that it was Oliver who was holding her. His eyes were dark and concerned as he looked her over. He lifted a hand and brushed a tear from her cheek, a tear she hadn’t even known was falling from her eye. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked her. 

Felicity shook her head. “No… I’m fine. It just… scared me, is all.”

“It’s gone now,” he promised her. 

“That wasn’t you?”

“No, that wasn’t me. I promise you.”

She released him and took a step back, even though leaving his embrace left her feeling cold and empty. “You heard it too?” she asked. 

Oliver nodded. “I did. And I heard you cry out, heard you banging on the door. I came right away.”

“C-can we just… go outside? I need to… not be in here right now,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Sure. Let’s walk outside until you feel comfortable again.”

Felicity smiled gratefully at him. He wasn’t judging her nerves and that meant a lot to her. He followed her downstairs and even helped her into her coat. They left through the front door. Flakes were already starting to drift through the sky. Once outside, Felicity took a deep breath of the fresh, cold air. 

Her nerves started to dissipate, like a puddle evaporating in the sun. Her shoulders relaxed and she turned to Oliver. “What do you think it means?”

He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “I think it means we have a second ghost.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” she groaned. 

“Why not?” he asked. “I think it’s pretty plain—“

“A week ago I didn’t even believe in ghosts. Now I’ve got one who’s tormenting me with his good looks and brooding temperament and apparently now I’ve got another who’s determined to scare me out of my wits.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Good looks?”

“ _That’s_ what you took from what I said??”

He grinned. Felicity was startled for a moment because she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him _smile_ like that. It was breathtaking… the way his entire face lightened up, his eyes twinkled and she saw that he had _dimples_. Sweet heaven, he was gorgeous. 

“I’m sorry for shouting at you last night,” he said, his manner turning earnest. 

Felicity stopped and took his hands, She ran her fingers over his knuckles. “You don’t have to be sorry. What I said was totally out of line.”

“That memory I shared upset you,” he said. “I could tell that. I don’t know why it did, exactly, but I’m sorry for it all the same.”

“It’s nothing that’s your fault,” Felicity promised him. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” he told her. He turned his hands over to grasp hers. “Please… I want you to stay.”

Her heart knocked in her chest. “I want to stay, too.”

“I need to learn more about how I died, why… and why I’m still here every year. It’s the only way I can fix it and I need your help to do it.”

Felicity felt a keen wave of disappointment. He wanted her to stay, to help him move on and leave this whole ghost thing behind. Not because he liked her specifically or wanted to spend more time with her. She tried to shrug it off… it was for the best that they keep this business-like… platonic at most. 

“You have my help,” she assured him. 

They walked around the house and Oliver spotted the tree, leaning up against the porch railing. 

“What’s this?” he asked. He approached the tree and looked it over. “Where did this come from?”

Felicity joined him. “I went out this morning and found it, cut it down.”

He looked at her, surprised. “You dragged this tree back here through the snow? By yourself?”

“Well… yeah. I’m stronger than I look, mister.” She flexed an arm to prove it and he grinned again. 

“I can’t believe you went out and cut down a Christmas tree all by yourself,” he said, still admiring the tree. “You should have taken Quentin with you.”

“He was already gone for the day. I texted him and asked him to bring over some lights and stuff. He said there’s some decorations in the attic too.” Felicity paused and fidgeted a little. “I thought we could decorate it together.”

Oliver looked at her and smiled, a very genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and warmed her inside. “I’d like that.”

***

After he and Felicity gathered the boxes of decorations from the attic, Oliver worked on getting the tree into a stand and situated in just the right place before the parlor room windows. Quentin stopped by only briefly to drop lights and ornaments off before he left again. He’d given the two of them a _look_ and Oliver knew exactly what the other man was thinking. 

Oliver would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t thinking it too. 

Once the tree was up, they took a break for lunch. Oliver made grilled cheese sandwiches for them both, which made Felicity roll her eyes, but she also smiled too. He was so glad she hadn’t left. These twelve days would be difficult, they always were, but her presence made things easier somehow. 

He couldn’t deny the idea of being able to fully move on, to leave this world and this life behind, to not drift in this aimless ghost state and appear for these twelve days every year… it was tantalizing. His life was over, Oliver accepted that. But if it was truly over, he wanted it to be _over_. This lingering was a nightmare. 

But Oliver knew he could figure out this mystery on his own if he really set his mind to it. He could ask Quentin to help, if worse came to worse. Felicity was more to him than just a way to put his curse to rest. She was… happiness. And light. And there were times when he looked at her and she smiled that he… wanted to kiss her senseless. 

For now, he was doing a pretty decent job of ignoring those impulses. But decorating this Christmas might prove to be his breaking point. 

Felicity helped him string the lights on the tree, a new practice he’d honestly never done before. They hadn’t used lights on the trees they’d decorated back when he’d been alive. He did recall garland though, strung with popcorn or ribbon. They had garland too, but this was glittery. 

The ornaments were his favorite part though. Some of the ornaments from the boxes in the attic were ones he recognized. They chatted while they hung the decorations on the tree, soft music playing from Felicity’s phone in the background. 

“Why do you suppose that it’s twelve days that you come to life?” she asked. “That seems like such a specific amount of time. Why Christmas?”

“I have no idea,” he answered. “Some years I wish it could be longer, some years I wish it wouldn’t happen at all. The latter is more common.”

“Oh yeah? What sort of year is this year?” She tossed him a grin which had him smirking. 

“Longer. Definitely longer.”

He really enjoyed the way her cheeks turned pink when he said that. It made him feel something he hadn’t felt in far too long. 

“You know, I haven’t had an actual Christmas in 95 years?” he told her. “Which is unfortunate because Christmas was always my favorite holiday.”

“I’m Jewish,” Felicity said. “So Christmas was never a thing for me. But… I can admit to enjoying some of the traditions with my non-Jewish friends before. I had a roommate in college who liked to blast Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas’ and I gotta admit, by the time she left for winter break, I was singing that song with her.”

“I’m not familiar with that song,” Oliver admitted. 

“Really? That’s a sacrilege. I can fix that,” she said. She crossed to where she had the device she called her phone sitting in a ceramic mug to amplify the speakers. She picked it up and tapped at the screen for a few moments. After a slight pause, music filled the parlor. 

It wasn’t like any music he’d heard during his lifetime, that’s for sure. But he couldn’t deny that it was catchy. 

The best part was how Felicity grinned at him and danced around the tree as she hung ornaments, singing along at key moments. He just watched her, almost amazed, at the fluid way she moved, the infectious joy that she radiated as she hung ornaments and shook her hips to the music. 

“You say you don’t have a beau currently,” Oliver remarked, hoping to sound casually. He focused his attention on hanging the snowflake ornament in his hand on a branch. 

He felt her eyes on him for a moment before she answered. “No, I don’t.”

“The men in your time must be foolish.” He turned his attention back to her and found her standing still, watching him. “They should be lining up to be your beau.”

“It’s not really them,” she admitted. “It’s me. I’m the reason why they leave.”

“I don’t believe that. A strong man stays.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow at him and Oliver caught what he’d just said. He huffed a little. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. But I also think being _present_ is important.”

“Can I ask you why that’s such a sore spot with you?” he asked. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’ve been wondering since last night what set you off like that.”

“My parents got divorced when I was really young,” she said. “I was so close with my dad, growing up. He and I were so alike in so many ways. We worked on computers together, he read me books, really got me interested in learning. He called me his “little sponge” because I soaked up everything so quick.”

“How old were you when he left?” Oliver asked gently. 

“Seven. A precocious seven, my mother would tell you. It… it really hit me hard. We’d been so close and then just like that he was _gone_. It felt…” She caught herself and he could see her eyes shining in the soft light from the lights on the tree. “For a long time I thought I was unloveable. I think him leaving sort of broke me.”

“Unloveable?” Oliver was incredulous. He didn’t see how that was possible. “Felicity, what are you talking about?”

“If I was loveable, how could my father have walked away?” she wanted to know. 

Oliver had no good answer for that. And he understood so much better now why his leaving Laurel that last time upset her so much. “I’m almost certain it wasn’t you, Felicity. Whatever reason made your father leave, that was all on him. Not you.”

“I also feel like I don’t really know _how_ to be in love. I’d like to be, I really would but… I’m just unsure. If I did know how, wouldn’t it have happened by now?” 

“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “Love is pretty mysterious. And it could just be you haven’t met the right person yet.”

She made an interesting face when he said that. “Maybe,” she murmured. 

“Listen. I’ve only known you for a short time, but what I’ve seen is a young woman with an enormous capacity for love,” he told her. 

“Yeah?” She looked hopefully up at him. 

“Definitely. I’ve seen it in the way you are with Quentin, how you are with your mom… and your willingness to help a grumpy old ghost like me out.”

She nibbled at her lower lip in a manner that he found entirely distracting. But she didn’t seem to know what to say in reply. He watched as she noticed one of the opened boxes sitting around their feet and she bent down to retrieve a decoration. 

She held it up for him. It was an angel for the top of the tree. It was old and he thought he recognized it from when he was still alive. 

“Why don’t you hang the angel,” she suggested. 

“You sure?” he asked. 

“Yeah, it’s your house. And your first Christmas in 95 years.”

“It’s your first Christmas _ever_ ,” he told her. She laughed. 

“Just put up the angel, ghost boy.”

He pulled over the step stool and climbed up. She looked up as he leaned over to set the angel on the top branch of the tree. Something settled in him as he did that, and he felt _right_. He smiled down at Felicity, enjoying the happy glitter in her eyes as she took in the completed tree. 

“Its perfect,” she told him. 

He climbed off the ladder and stood back, next to her side, as he looked over the tree. “Best looking tree I’ve ever had, I think.”

“Same here,” she said with a wink. 

“Thank you, by the way. You made this possible.”

Again, her cheeks colored. Oliver was learning that he loved making Felicity blush. It was quickly becoming a fixation for him. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “I want to help you, Oliver. I want to help you learn what happened to you, help you find your closure and break this curse, if you can. But if you can’t… if _we_ can’t fix this… then I want to promise you something.”

“What is that?” he asked. 

“I promise to make sure you always have a tree for Christmas. For as long as you’re here.”

He was so touched, so _amazed_ , that he wanted to take her up in his arms and kiss her. He wanted to kiss her to thank her for being so wonderful to him, for thinking of him. And he wanted to kiss her because she looked amazing in the light of Christmas tree, her blue eyes sparkling behind her glasses. 

The urge was so strong that he had to back up and break eye contact. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck self consciously. “How about I make both of us some dinner.”

“So long as you let me make the salad,” she replied. She smiled as though no tension-filled moment had just happened and he realized she was letting him off the hook. Part of him wished she wouldn’t, but the rest of him was glad for the easy distraction. 

“Well, come on assistant chef, let’s see what we can find in the icebox.”

Giggling, she linked arms with him and they walked to the kitchen together. 

***

Dinner ended up being spaghetti and meatballs but everything had tasted just as great as usual. Felicity couldn’t get over Oliver’s talent with cooking. If he weren’t a ghost, she would suggest he open a restaurant. 

But he was. He was a ghost. She knew they’d had a moment together while decorating the tree. She’d wanted to indulge in it, just to see what it felt like to be loved by a man like this. Even if it were just for a brief moment. But the realist in her told her that it wasn’t a good idea. So when Oliver pulled away, she was disappointed but ultimately grateful. It just wasn’t meant to be for them. 

They ended up talking for a couple hours after finishing dinner, sharing a bottle of wine between them. It was good. Easy. Oliver didn’t have any more memories, but he did seem more relaxed with her than ever before. Felicity had to believe that would be conducive towards him remembering things. If he was feeling comfortable, maybe something would shake loose. 

After they put up the dishes, Oliver followed her upstairs. 

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. 

“I’ll feel better if I can keep an eye on things,” he insisted. “I promise, nothing untoward will happen.”

Oliver wanted to stay in her room while she slept. He assured her, again, that he didn’t sleep. His concern was sweet, but she just wasn’t sure how she felt about him sitting in her room while she was sleeping. What if she _snored_? 

“I mean, it’ll probably be okay,” she said as she pushed open the door to her bedroom. Oliver followed her inside. “We haven’t heard anything all afternoon or evening.”

“Felicity, I saw you after that incident this morning. You were shaking like a leaf,” he reminded her. “You were terrified. What if that happened again and I wasn’t here?”

She rubbed her arms. It wasn’t a pleasant scenario to contemplate. 

“I can’t ask you to sit here all night. You’ll die of boredom!”

“I’m already dead,” he pointed out. 

Felicity sighed. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

He shook his head. “No. Things have changed. We know there’s another ghost in Verdant House now.”

“Yeah, but—“

“It’s for your own protection. And for my own peace of mind.”

She hadn’t considered his peace of mind. Finally, she sighed. “Fine, but I can’t have you staring at me while I sleep.”

His lips quirked. “Why not? 

She shrugged. “It’s just… weird.”

“You’re the boss,” he told her. 

Felicity gathered her pajamas and went into the bathroom to change. She felt nervous, like she was getting ready for a date or something. She told the butterflies in her stomach to settle down but spent some time making sure her pajama pants and tank top didn’t have any stains on them. Then, she brushed out her hair, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Once she felt satisfied, she went back into the bedroom. 

Oliver sat in the armchair, which he’d positioned between the bed and the door to the room. He’d faced it away from the bed, so he wouldn’t be staring at her. That made her feel a bit better. Though he’d surely hear if she started snoring… 

He was standing near the bed, looking at one of the pictures on the wall. It was a watercolor of a stream, surrounded by trees so that dappled sunlight filtered down onto it. 

“That’s a really beautiful piece,” Felicity remarked. “Do you remember it?”

He nodded without looking away from the painting. “My mother painted this, when I was just a child,” he told her. “The stream is about a mile west through the woods. It’s beautiful in the summertime.”

The wistfulness in his voice reminded her that he’d never see that stream again. Even if they were unable to break this curse, he’d never live again outside the confines of these same twelve days in December. It made her suddenly sad for all the other things he’d never get to see or experience again. 

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” she said softly. 

“I’ll be all right, Felicity—“ He turned towards her and then stopped, his mouth hanging open. She realized he hadn’t seen her in her pajamas without a robe. The tank top probably revealed more than he was expecting. That or he’d never seen matryoshka doll pajama pants before. Both were just as likely. 

“Everything okay?” she asked, blinking innocently at him. 

Oliver seemed to catch himself. He tore his eyes away and nodded. “Yes. Yes, everything is fine. I just…got distracted….er… by this painting.”

Felicity grinned. He’d been checking her out. That was a delightful little boost to her ego, and a perfect topper on what had ended up being a pretty perfect day. She crossed to the bed and pulled the covers back. Oliver coughed and went to get settled on the chair, being careful to avert his eyes. 

She smiled at what a gentleman he was. She’d never known a guy like that before. 

Once she was settled, the blankets pulled up to her chin, she called out to him. “Okay, I’m in.”

He turned in the chair a little, looking over his shoulder to her. A look crossed his face when he saw her but it cleared quickly. 

“What?” she asked him. 

He shrugged a little, looking bashful. She’d never seen the guy look bashful. “It’s just… this used to be my bedroom.”

Felicity gaped. “It did? This room?”

He nodded. “This room. And that bed. I doubt those are the same linens but… mine were dark red as well.”

She felt her cheeks heat with the tell tale blush that this man always seemed to be able to bring out in her. “Oh… that’s… I didn’t know.” 

She’d picked this room out of all the rooms but she couldn’t have put her finger on _why_. It’d just felt right when she’d first seen it. And, oh man, she needed to _not_ think of Oliver sleeping in this bed. That was a very, very dangerous path to go down. Especially when she was going to sleep here with him in the room. 

Oliver smiled at her. “I wish you could be the one to buy this inn,” he admitted. 

They hadn’t spoken much about it, but the threat of Verdant House being bought by perfect strangers still loomed over their heads. Oliver had agreed, a couple days ago, to talk about it after the mystery had been solved. But since then it’d been something of an elephant in the room. 

“I wish I could too,” she murmured. “I don’t make nearly enough money.”

Oliver looked disappointed. It twisted her heart in her chest to think that he’d been hoping that she might buy Verdant House and save it. She began to think about different ways she might be able to raise the funds before remembering the trust wanted to sell the inn before New Years. There was no way she’d have enough time to scrape enough money together. 

“Good night, Oliver,” she said softly.

He smiled again and faced forward. “Good night, Felicity.”

She reached over and turned off the lamp on her bedside table, slipping off her glasses and setting them next to the lamp. Then, she settled back down into the sheets, turning on her side to face him. She could see him silhouetted from the light in the hallway as he sat vigil at the doorway to her room. It made her feel safe. It didn’t take long to drift off to sleep with that warm thought comforting her. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver makes progress in remembering what happened to him and Felicity gets a disappointing phone call.

_December 16, 2016_

The house was quiet except for the soft sounds of Felicity’s breathing in the bed behind him. But Oliver was doing his level best not to think too much about her in that bed, in _his_ bed, wearing that small, tight top. It had revealed enough of her form to make his mouth water and his fingers itch. 

He reminded himself that he was keeping watch, protecting Felicity while she slept. There was a second ghost in the house, the reveal of which still surprised him hours later. In all these years since his death, when he’d been coming to life for these twelve days, he’d never noticed the presence of another spirit. Not even once. Either the other ghost had been silent during those twelve days or… they hadn’t been there. 

Two things made him believe this wasn’t a “newer” ghost, however. The first was that something about the presence felt familiar to him. Oliver wasn’t sure how else to describe it. But the moments where the ghost was making itself known, Oliver had a feeling settle over him that could only be defined as _recognition_. The second thing was that moment where he thought he’d seen Laurel standing in the attic, watching him. 

It was possible that Laurel was the second ghost. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, the chance to interact with her again was something he’d spent so many years wishing he could have. On the other hand… this presence had been pretty threatening to Felicity and had scared her quite liberally. If the ghost was, in fact, Laurel, Oliver wasn’t sure how he liked that she would want to scare this woman who he’d begun to find himself caring for. 

And that was another conundrum… the feelings he was starting to feel for Felicity. She made it easy with her infectious smile, her bright demeanor and light attitude. She also supported him in a way that he couldn’t help but respond to. He hadn’t had that… in so long. She was real and vivid and right here. 

It was tempting to do something. To make a move. 

But Oliver would be gone, one way or another, in eight more days. It wasn’t fair to start something with her when he knew he couldn’t finish it, no matter how much he might want to. 

It was about 1 o’clock in the morning when Oliver heard some noises. He set down the book he’d been reading and leaned forward, listening. It sounded like it was up in the attic, where he would normally pass the night. He wanted to investigate but was torn about leaving Felicity alone. He got up and stood in the doorway before turning towards the bed. 

He walked to her side and stood there, watching her. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, her face relaxed. He didn’t see her without her glasses very often and she looked younger, somehow. Her face was washed clean of makeup, her hair brushed out and spread across the pillowcase. Oliver couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing a tendril of golden hair off her cheek. His finger paused, feeling the softness of her cheek, the warmth of her skin. 

It was all he could allow himself. 

A few more thumps sounded, this time on the stairs. Oliver moved out of the room and into the darkened hallway. He started to hear whispers, almost more of a shushing sound and moved towards where he heard the thumps. 

_“Oliver…”_

The ghostly sound sent chills up his back, and sent him hurrying back to Felicity’s room, to resume his guard. 

***

Felicity woke up slowly and peacefully, not something she was used to. It was usually her alarm that rattled her out of her slumber. When she was a teenager, it was her mother coming into her room to talk her ear off about something or another. But waking up, naturally, with the sun on her cheek? Unheard of. 

She felt rested as she blinked her eyes open. She was facing the door and… the chair Oliver had sat in was set against the wall and empty. Disappointment swelled; she’d hoped to see him first thing when she woke up. But it was probably a bit much to assume that he would guard her the entire night, especially since the sun was up and the “day was afoot”, as he would say. 

Felicity rolled over, stretching her arms over her head and that’s when she saw Oliver. He was standing at the window, looking out. Relief flooded through her and she smiled. 

He turned then and saw her and his smile echoed hers. He’d _stayed_. Maybe that’s why she’d slept so well last night, felt so safe and peaceful and relaxed… because he was there. Her smile deepened. 

“How did you _not_ sleep?” she asked him teasingly. 

He smirked. “Uneventfully.And how did you actually sleep?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in ages, honestly.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

There was a sound outside and Oliver turned his attention back to the window. “It’s Quentin,” he announced. “Why don’t you get a quick shower and get dressed and I will meet him downstairs, get some breakfast going.”

Felicity nodded, pulling the covers up her chest. He paused to look at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. Then he shook his head, muttered something that sounded like “trouble” and strode out of her room. 

She grinned to herself before getting out of bed and scuttling into the bathroom to take a quick shower. 

It was just shy of a half hour later when she walked into the kitchen. Oliver was making pancakes at the stove and Quentin was sitting at the table, a mug of coffee cradled in his hands. 

“There she is,” Quentin said, smiling when he saw her. 

“Here I am,” she agreed. 

“So now that she’s here, will you tell me whatever it is you have to tell me?” the older man asked Oliver. 

Oliver transferred several pancakes from the griddle to a plate and poured more batter onto the surface to make more. “There is a second ghost in Verdant House,” he said calmly, as though he was discussing the weather. 

Quentin stared at him and then looked to Felicity. “Is he serious?”

“Dead serious,” she said. Then… she cracked a smile. “That was a pretty good pun.”

“Not bad,” Oliver agreed, setting the plate with the pancakes down on the center of the table. She and Quentin each helped themselves to a few, transferring the pancakes to their own plates. 

“How can you two joke about this?” Quentin looked almost disgusted as he poured syrup over his stack.

“It’s either joke or run screaming out into the woods,” Felicity said. “But yes, two ghosts. One unidentified and one that makes pancakes.”

“So is this other ghost… like him?” He tipped his head towards Oliver, who was flipping his latest batch of pancakes. 

“No, it’s not… alive. We don’t know who it is, if it’s someone related to Oliver’s story or not.”

“I think it is,” Oliver said quietly. “It feels personal. And familiar.”

Felicity was startled. He hadn’t told her that, about the ghost feeling familiar. “It also feels distinctly _mean_. It scared the bejeezus out of me yesterday and I even heard a voice saying ‘get out’.” She shuddered at the memory. 

“Do you think this ghost had something to do with Oliver’s death?” Quentin asked. 

“Yes, I do,” she answered. “I think whoever this ghost is, they are who killed Oliver.”

“I still hope that I just fell and hit my head,” Oliver said, bringing the latest stack of pancakes over the table and sitting down to start eating. 

Felicity found his faith in his friends to be admirable, but she didn’t have the same opinion. One of them murdered him, in cold blood. And whoever it was, that person was haunting Verdant House in earnest. She was determined to get to the bottom of this and put a stop to it. 

“So who is on the list of suspects?” Quentin wanted to know. 

“Right now? Laurel, Thea and Tommy,” Felicity said, ticking them off on her fingers. 

“There’s also Damien Darhk.”

“Who?” Both she and Quentin spoke at once. 

“He’s the man who organized the entire rum running operation. He was based in Seattle but spent most of his time up in Vancouver. He was a dangerous man with a lot of dangerous contacts.”

“With a name like that, it’s hardly a surprise,” she muttered. 

“Who had the best motive to want you dead?” 

Oliver looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I want to say none of them. I can’t believe my sister would be angry enough at me to want me dead. Besides, I… saw her. After my death.”

Felicity set down her fork. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… that first Christmas when I came back like this… she was living here. With her husband. She had a new baby… Henrietta.”

“Wait… you saw your sister? You spoke to her?”

“Briefly,” Oliver said. He looked as sad as she’d ever seen him at the memory. “It was… difficult. Her emotions were high, seeing me. She didn’t really understand. And I was upset to learn that Laurel had married Tommy… I didn’t want to know any more so I wouldn’t let her tell me.”

Felicity swallowed thickly and reached across the table to cover Oliver’s hand with hers. “I’m so sorry, Oliver.”

“I kept to myself after that. Stayed in the attic during my 12 days, tried to keep the creepiness to a minimum for the rest of the year. I couldn’t bear too much contact; seeing my sister reminded me too much of what I’d lost.”

She wanted to hug him. She wanted to get up out of her chair, pull him out of his and wrap her arms around him. Instead, she cleared her throat and pressed on. “Maybe we should go over your last memory again. See if you can remember anything new.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding and looking more than a little lost. 

“You were coming back from Canada, walking through the woods. Was anyone with you?”

Oliver shook his head. “No, Tommy stayed up in Canada. He was coming the day after Christmas but I didn’t want to wait. I’d promised Laurel.”

“And the Christmas dance was underway here at the inn?” Quentin wanted to know. 

“Yes. I could hear the music as I drew near. ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’… my favorite carol.”

“What else did you see?” Felicity asked. 

So he told them. 

***

_December 24, 1921_

As Oliver trudged through the snow filled woods north of Verdant House, he thought about Laurel, about the life he wanted to build with her. The money Darhk had given him sat in the pocket of his coat and would be just enough to save the inn before New Years. 

But Darhk had wanted him to stay through Christmas. There was another shipment coming in and he wanted all hands on deck for it. When Oliver tried to explain why he wanted to be home for Christmas, Darhk had grown furious. But his mind was made up, and Laurel was more important that more money in his pocket. Even so, he’d had to leave early that morning, under the cover of darkness. 

Darhk wasn’t going to be happy to find him gone. 

But Oliver wasn’t worried about that. He was done running rum. With any luck, he’d never see Darhk again. He could run the inn with Tommy, get married to Laurel and raise a family. 

The future looked so bright. 

Oliver heard the strains of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” before he saw the inn. Lights were shining, guests were arriving for the dance… Oliver paused for a moment before moving around, still hidden around the edge of the woods, towards the rear of the house. That is where he saw Laurel. 

She stood on the back porch, looking distraught and troubled. His sister joined her, and he couldn’t make out what they were saying. But it looked like they were arguing. Then his sister was hugging Laurel and Oliver was desperate to know what was being said, why Laurel was upset. Even more, he was desperate to hold Laurel in his arms. 

They walked into the house together and Oliver felt a yearning in his chest like he’d never felt before. He wanted to join them. Laurel would be cross with him, but she would forgive him. She’d see he made it in time and she would forgive him. 

But then a crunching sound came from behind him. Time slowed down to a crawl, each moment protracted out, hanging nearly still in the frigid night air. A figure was behind him and he felt a crack on the back of his head. No… it was more he _heard_ the crack than he felt it. 

The effect on his body was instant and disastrous. He felt to the snow like a stone… like the stone that had struck the back of his head. He knew it was a stone. He could almost picture it. The snow enveloped him as he sank into it, his breath leaving him one last time, forming a puff of condensation in the frozen air. But around his head was warmth; wet and spreading…. 

It was his blood, he faintly realized. 

His vision was tunneling, the darkness pressing in and everything going foggy and hazy. But he saw one last thing… one last thing before his heart stilled in his chest. 

It was the silhouette of a figure, standing over him. 

***

_December 16, 2016_

Oliver’s jaw was slack as he finished recounting his final moments for them. “I _was_ murdered,” he said. 

Felicity squeezed his hand. “I know you were hoping for another explanation,” she told him. To be perfectly honest, the way he’d described those final moment had the blood in her veins turning cold. She hated the thought of him out there in the snow, alone, dying. She hated the thought of someone snuffing out his life before his time. 

“Could it have been Tommy?” Quentin asked, rubbing at the whiskers on his chin. 

Oliver shook his head. “I left him in Canada. I came back alone, and without telling anyone. Darhk wanted us to remain there through Christmas, but I’d promised Laurel I’d be back…”

“I understand why you came back when you did,” Felicity said. 

“I should have come back a day earlier. I shouldn’t have left at all,” he said morosely. “Such a fool…”

“So who was at the dance, who couldn’t have been out in the woods with you?” she asked him. 

“I don’t think Laurel or Thea would have had a chance to do it,” Quentin said. “They’d just gone back inside, correct?”

Oliver nodded. “I’m a little fuzzy on how much time passed before they went back inside before I was struck…”

“Do you honestly think Laurel or your sister were angry enough with you to want to kill you?” Felicity asked him. 

He blew out a breath. “No, I don’t. Laurel was upset with me, and so was Thea, but I really don’t think they would kill me. That’s not who they were.”

She had to agree. She hadn’t known either woman, obviously, but from the things Oliver had told her about his memories of them, she just didn’t see it. 

“Putting myself in Laurel’s shoes, I think I would be upset and disappointed,” Felicity said. “And I might curse your name the entire time you were gone—“

She caught herself and her eyes went wide. 

“What?” Oliver asked. “What is it?”

“How long were you gone again?” she asked him. 

“About two weeks.”

“About two weeks or exactly two weeks? Do you remember what day you left?”

“December 13 th ,” he answered. 

“And you returned December 24 th .”

“Holy crap, you two,” Quentin breathed. “That’s the twelve days.”

“It feels significant. It has to mean something,” Felicity said. “Do you think… maybe Laurel is why you’re stuck?”

“That she cursed me, somehow?” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe. Honestly, if you’d asked me back then about ghosts and curses, I would have laughed you out the door.”

“Sounds like me just a week ago,” Felicity said with a wink. 

“Something we have in common,” he replied and… was he flirting? That grin of his looked a lot like a flirty grin to her. Felicity’s heart sped up a bit. 

***

_December 17, 2016_

The next day, Felicity was getting ready in the morning, remembering the way Oliver’s eyes had lingered on her that morning when she woke up. He’d insisted on sitting in her room that night again. It had been a lot less awkward this time and they’d actually talked for a long while before she fell asleep. 

She’d asked him about the sale of the inn. He clearly didn’t like the idea, even now (and she wasn’t terribly fond of it either, now that she knew the place… and Oliver…). But she explained to him that he couldn’t stop the sale, it was going to happen no matter what he did, sooner or later. In fact, the only thing he could do was make the process as miserable as possible. She asked him if he really wanted to be the sort of man that would do that. It made him think. 

Oliver told her about his parents, and the trouble he used to get up to when he was younger, which had delighted Felicity to no end. 

_“Tommy and I were barely civilized,” he admitted. “We were both terrible in school, neither of us took it seriously at all.”_

_“I bet you were a hit with all the girls, though,” she teased him._

_He flushed a little. “Yes, and we both encouraged it more than we should have. We were considered rakes, the two of us. I think most fathers were glad to see us both go off to Europe to fight in the Great War.”_

_“And how was that?” Felicity asked. “We hear more about World War II these days, not so much about World War I.”_

_“I still can’t believe there was another war,” he said. “After what we went through, everything that was lost…”_

_“I know. I mean… I don’t know, actually because I wasn’t alive. But I studied it in school growing up.”_

_“Were you well behaved as a child?” he asked._

_“Depends on how you define well behaved. I talked back to my mom a lot. And I was pretty anti-social with other kids. I’d get in trouble at school for making the teacher look stupid.”_

_Oliver laughed at that. “I would have loved to have seen that.”_

She’d fallen to sleep with a smile on her face. They’d done a lot of talking yesterday, but less about Oliver’s mystery. All their conversations seemed to turn into teasing and laughing and sharing ideas. Quentin had left right after breakfast, claiming he couldn’t “bear the hearteyes” any longer. It had made both of them blush. 

Her mother had come out for dinner though, and Oliver had cooked them all a pot roast and vegetables that tasted absolutely perfect. Donna had stayed for a while, chatting with them. It’d be hard to remember Oliver’s cover story as “Jonas” but he’d been able to charm her mother pretty easily to cover any slips. By the time she left, she’d been happily dazed by his grin. 

When Felicity woke up this morning, Oliver had been sitting in the chair still, reading his book. He had a pair of glasses on that made him look especially hot. But as soon as he saw she was awake, he retreated to give her privacy to get ready. He said Quentin was coming by again and he wanted to make scones for breakfast, and chop some fresh fruit to go with. 

God, the man was a miracle.

Her cell phone rang in her jeans pocket and Felicity was so startled that she didn’t know what it was at first. It’d been days since she’d made a call; her mother had been calling the house phone at the inn. She hadn’t even checked her email. That was highly unlike her. And not too long ago, Felicity would have declared being cut off from email and the internet to be the worst thing ever. Now, these last few days… it was actually kind of nice to get away. 

She pulled the phone out and saw it was Ray Palmer calling. Her heart sunk, remembering how she’d made him promise to call her if he needed her to return to Central City early. At the time, she’d been hoping for an easy out of this “vacation”. But now… she wanted to stay. 

Biting her lip, she answered. “Hello, Ray. What’s going on?”

“Can’t I want to talk to my favorite employee?” he asked. 

“Sure, but you’re the one who told me to go on vacation and forget about work so there’s no chance you’d be calling me unless you wanted something.”

“Okay, you got me. I need something.”

Felicity sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “What is it? And please tell me it’s something I can do remotely.”

“No can do, Felicity,” he said and she could hear the regret in his voice. “Wayne Tech needs to move the meeting up to the 23 rd . And they want to talk about merging our Applied Sciences divisions on top of IT. Which means…”

“Which means you need me down there to prep our Applied Sciences in advance of the 23 rd .” She closed her eyes and rubbed a hand over them. There was no way she could get out of this and still keep her job. “ _Shit_.”

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” Ray said. “I’m a little surprised, though. I thought you’d be glad for the excuse to escape early. I was expecting you to thank me up and down but that is not the reaction I’m getting from you.”

“No… it’s not,” she agreed. 

“So what’s happened? Last I heard you were staying the night in a ghost-infested inn. Wait… have you been possessed?” 

“No, I… I just sorta… fell in love.” Felicity heard herself and her eyes widened. “With this place! The inn… and the town. Not… not any people. Nope. That’s not happening. Not here.”

There was a pause on the line and Felicity winced. 

“Wow,” Ray said at last. “I haven’t heard you babble like that in _ages_. This trip has done you some good!”

“Yes, I think it has.”

“There’s also _clearly_ something you aren’t telling me and I will be pumping you for details when you get yourself back here in time for drinks with the Wayne Tech folks tonight.”

“Wait… tonight? Ray! It’s a five hour drive!”

“Drinks aren’t until seven so you’ve got plenty of time to pack up and say your goodbyes.”

Felicity glanced at the clock on her phone. It was 9:30 in the morning. Ray was right, she had time. But she hated driving. She really wasn’t looking forward to throwing all her things in a suitcase and getting in the car. And… she may as well be honest… she hated to leave Oliver. 

“What time is the meeting on the 23 rd ?” she asked. 

“Afternoon,” Ray said. “They wanted to head back to Gotham in time for Christmas Eve.”

“Okay… we figure a few hours at most—“

“We’ll be done by 5 o’clock. For sure.”

“—And then I could drive back here, get here by 10pm.”

“You want to go back??”

“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t see why that won’t work.”

She relaxed a little. Leaving was not ideal, but as long as she could be back by Christmas Eve, before Oliver vanished… She swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I’ll be there, Ray. I told you I would,” she said, though her heart wasn’t in it. 

“That’s my girl. Thanks, Felicity. I couldn’t do this without you!”

As Felicity hung up the call, she realized this was the first time that she wished he _could_ do it without her. Better to rip this band-aid off now. Besides Oliver was expecting her down for breakfast soon. She quickly pulled out her suitcase from underneath the bed and began to pack her things. Luckily, she didn’t have much to pack. While she did that, she called her mom to let her know her changed plans. She was disappointed, which was to be expected, but Felicity promised her she’d be back soon. 

Fifteen minutes later, she was coming down the stairs, lugging her bag with her. Quentin and Oliver met her in the hallway way when they heard the thumping. 

“What’s this?” Oliver asked, his brows drawn together. 

“I— have to go back to Central City,” she said. Both of men looked surprised but Oliver’s look morphed into such a keen disappointment that she felt heart squeeze in her chest. “Just for a few days.”

“Is it your work?” Quentin asked. 

“Yeah, my boss called. He needs me earlier than expected so I have to leave right after breakfast.”

Oliver didn’t say anything. He just nodded his head and turned to walk back into the kitchen. Quentin watched after him and then looked to her. “You have to go?” he asked. 

Her shoulders drooped. “I don’t want to, Quentin. Leaving is the last thing I want to do, especially right now.”

“He’s disappointed, I can tell.”

“I can tell too.” 

And it was killing her, a little bit. But she pasted a smile on and walked into the kitchen, leaving the suitcase by the door. Oliver was setting a plate of scones and a big bowl of cut up fruit in the center of the table. Each place was set and Felicity sat down at the seat she’d been using the last few days, feeling a little wistful. She was going to miss this; she couldn’t cook to save her life but Oliver was a miracle in the kitchen. 

They didn’t speak about her leaving much while they ate. Instead, Quentin talked about the Christmas party and how Donna was excited. Apparently the two of them had been spending some time together in town, going over plans for the party. She and Oliver exchanged a look which made her laugh. Felicity hoped Quentin finally got the courage up to ask her mom out. If not for her mom’s sake, then for his. She’d grown to like the gruff older man and wanted him to be happy. 

All too soon, however, breakfast was done and Felicity was out of excuses. It was time to leave. 

“I’ll take care of the cleanup,” Quentin offered. He caught Oliver’s eye. “Why don’t you help her out to her car with that suitcase?”

“Good idea, thank you, Quentin.”

Oliver helped her get her coat on and together, they walked out the front door. He carried her suitcase easily down the steps and across the packed snow to her SUV. Neither of them said anything as she unlocked the doors and opened the back hatch for her. 

Then, they stood, facing each other. Snowflakes were starting to drift down around them and Felicity realized, rather suddenly, that she felt like crying. Leaving here, leaving _him_ , felt wrong. 

“I don’t want to go,” she said. She hadn’t meant to say it, to blurt it out like that, but it just came out as she watched him as he watched her, the snowflakes all on him and sticking to his hair. 

“I don’t want you to go either,” he admitted. 

“I promise I’ll be back.”

“By Christmas Eve?” he asked hopefully. 

Felicity nodded. “Yes. I’ll be here. And we _will_ figure this out.”

He smiled softly at her. “So long as you’re back here, that’ll be good enough for me. That’s all that really matters.”

“Your life matters too,” she told him. “I don’t want you to be stuck anymore.”

He ducked his head and reached into his pocket. “I want to give you something, to take with you.”

Oliver pulled out a gold pocket watch, rubbed a thumb over the smooth lid, and handed it to her. “It doesn’t open any longer, but I want you to have it. It was my grandfather’s.”

Her eyes were wide as she took it, feeling the weight in her hand, the warmth from his own hand. “I couldn’t possibly, Oliver…”

“Please. I want you to have it. Though I’m not so sure it won’t disappear when you drive away. Like me.”

The tears started to clog her throat. “I’ll hold onto it and hope it doesn’t. But… Oliver… why?” 

He shrugged and it looked a little helpless. “I don’t want you to forget me while you’re away,” he said, and his smile was a little sheepish. 

Felicity stared up at him. She couldn’t believe this was the same grumpy, mulish, closed-off man she’d met her first morning at Verdant House. He was changed, at least around her. 

“Forget you?” she scoffed lightly. “Impossible.” She could feel tears forming behind her eyes and blinked to try to clear them. 

Oliver lifted a hand and cupped her face, his thumb running over her cheek. “Nothing’s impossible. I’m proof of that.”

He smiled sadly and she smiled back. She wanted so badly to lean into him, to push up on her toes and press her lips to his. But she didn’t dare. He wavered for a moment, as though he was struggling with the same impulse. But ultimately, he dropped his hand and stepped back. 

He opened her car door for her and she got in. He leaned in a little as she fastened her seatbelt, looking around at the interior with an interested gaze. She wondered what it all looked like through his eyes. 

Then he looked right at her, his blue eyes sad but clear. “Drive safe,” he told her. 

“I will.”

He closed the door and she started up the engine. She felt the first tear fall as she pulled away from Verdant House, her SUV aimed towards the gates. Quentin had left them open so she was able to just drive through. She looked in the mirror and saw Oliver standing there in the falling snow, just watching her drive away. 

The tears were falling in earnest now; she could barely see the road. She lifted a hand to wipe them and saw she still had the watch clutched in her fingers. She used the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks and then glanced down at the watch. It was still there. It hadn’t disappeared. 

She clutched it tighter as she steered her SUV through the tiny town of Starling and out towards the freeway that would take her back home. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver has some realizations, and grows as a result, while Felicity is gone and Felicity makes a discovery.

_December 18, 2016_

Oliver was grateful that Quentin came by Verdant House the day after Felicity left. It was funny; for 94 years, he’d been fiercely protective of his solitude, wanting to spend these twelve days alone. But this year… he found he preferred the companionship. Especially if that included Quentin or Felicity, though he had to admit a preference for Felicity. 

He might be dead, but for twelve days a year, he was still a red blooded man. 

But she was gone and in her absence, Oliver was glad to have Quentin. Today, they were enjoying a lengthy game of chess in the parlor. Oliver hadn’t played in a long time, since it wasn’t quite the same when one played the game against themselves, so he was rusty. But he’d been quite good back in the day, beating his sister and Tommy regularly. 

Quentin wasn’t nearly as rusty as he was, but Oliver could tell he also wasn’t as skilled either. It all ended up that the two of them were pretty well matched. 

Oliver moved one of his pawns. “Have you asked Donna permission to court her yet?” he asked. 

“No, I haven’t,” Quentin replied, studying the board to figure out his next move. 

“And why not? Its plain as the moon in the sky that you have feelings for the woman. The same could be said about her. Anytime you’re in the room, she’s focused completely on you.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Of course it is,” Oliver replied. “You ask to court her, you share a meal, you find things in common with one another… what could be more simple than that?”

“Okay, say I do all that,” Quentin said. “What happens next?”

He chuckled. “Quentin, you’ve been married. You know what happens next.”

The older man’s cheeks colored. “I mean… with my future. I’m not young and I’m set in my ways. Besides, I have a pretty good gig going right here.”

Oliver watched as Quentin moved his bishop and his mind already raced to try to determine the best move he could make next. He could move his rook, but Quentin’s knight would take his. 

“I don’t want you to quell your own future on account of me,” Oliver said, looking up from the board. 

“And what about you, eh?”

He blinked. “What _about_ me? My situation is pretty clear.”

“I mean about Felicity. You talk about how my feelings for Donna are clear and vice versa… but I can say the same about you and Felicity.”

The shoe was now well on the other foot. “It’s not the same situation,” he argued. 

“Isn’t it? I see a man who is attracted to a woman… how is that not the same?”

“Because… our situation is complicated. Who would want a man like me? A man who, at best, is only alive for twelve days of the year?” Oliver wanted to know. It was a thought that had been plaguing him for days now, but even more so since Felicity drove away. He’d nearly kissed her that day, had wanted to so badly. It was only the barest threads of his self control which had let him pull back from her. 

“Felicity would,” Quentin said. He sounded so sure of himself. “You can’t tell me that you doubt that woman would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

Oliver didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever gone to the ends of the earth for him. Not even Laurel. He was afraid to believe that what Quentin was saying to him was actually true. 

“You can’t know that,” Oliver said. 

“Yes, I can. Look, when she first got here, I saw a woman who was holding herself back. She was closed off and defensive and distanced herself with sarcasm. She sure as hell didn’t believe in anything. I know Donna pretty well by now and I’ve heard her talk about her daughter for years, how worried she was about her. Apparently, Felicity closes herself off in that big fancy office she has down in Central City and devotes herself to work. She doesn’t take any time for herself and she doesn’t have any relationships with anyone either. Donna was concerned that she was lonely and tried to get her to come for a visit but… for years Felicity has put her off. This year, she finally comes to see her mom. I saw exactly what Donna was worried about when I first met her. And I admit, I thought she was just this tough city girl who thought she was better than everyone else. I couldn’t see the bright, bubbly and loving woman that Donna had insisted to me that Felicity was underneath it all. But after that first night? I started to see it. The woman who left us on Sunday wasn’t the same one who came last week. You brought that out in her, Oliver. You showed up here and changed everything for that woman.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Oliver said and his voice came out like a croak. What Quentin had said shook him to his core. “She’s the one who changed everything. I just did the same thing I’ve done every year for 95 years. I showed up and threw my weight around and tried to scare her off. But it was like… the challenge just made her fight me harder. I couldn’t get her to leave and I couldn’t get her to leave me alone. And pretty soon… I didn’t want her to.”

“That sounds about right,” Quentin said with a wry grin. 

“She’s the one who changed everything for me. For the first time, I’m glad to be here. She made me want to live again,” Oliver told him. The truth settled in him as he said it. He did want to live again and it was because of the hope she’d shown to him.

“See? There you have it. So why don’t you do something about it? You tell me not to quell my future but I don’t want to see you do it either.”

“I can’t get around the circumstances,” he admitted. “If my circumstances were different, I would pursue her. In fact, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, poring over a game of chest with you, I would be driving down to Central City right this minute.”

“You don’t know how to drive one of these modern cars,” Quentin pointed out, his eyes glittering with mirth. “I’d have to drive you.”

“Fine. Then I’d have you drive me to Central City right now and I’d go to her big fancy office and I’d pull her up and I’d kiss her until neither of us could see straight. And I would never let her go, never let her wonder, never leave her… because she deserves to have someone who is there for her, constantly.”Oliver breathed out shakily and ran a hand over his head. “I’m not that man, Quentin.”

“But you want to be that man.”

“Desperately. I desperately want to be that man.”

“She’d wait for you, you know,” Quentin said. 

“I know she would. But I can’t do that to her,” he replied, his heart broken and bleeding inside his chest. “It’s not fair to her. None of this is fair.”

“No, it’s not,” his friend agreed. 

“I don’t even know if she’ll return in time for Christmas Eve.” The comparison between him hoping for Felicity’s return and the hope Laurel had likely felt all those years ago was not lost on him. Was this his payback? To walk a mile in his ex-fiancée’s shoes? 

“She’ll be back,” Quentin said. “I promise you, that woman won’t be able to stay away.”

***

_December 20, 2016_

Felicity sorted through document after document, looking for the precise information she needed. She’d spent the last three days (yes, even Sunday) working her tail off preparing for this merger meeting. The addition of the Applied Sciences department to the merger meant a lot of extra work she hadn’t anticipated. But she just about had everything she needed. 

Which was a good thing, because keeping her mind on her work was more difficult than ever. All she could think about was Oliver and Verdant House. She might have returned to Central City and Palmer Technologies, but her heart was back in Starling. 

A knock at her office door pulled her out of her thoughts. “Hard at work or hardly working?” 

“Hey, Ray,” she said with a smile. “Need something?”

“Nope, just checking in with you. You get everything you need from Applied Sciences?” 

“Yep, sure did.”

“Okay…” He sat in the seat in front of her desk and leaned forward. “Then why aren’t you here right now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re still back in Starling, aren’t you? I can tell, you know. You have this faraway look in your eyes. You have since you got back.”

Felicity sighed and set her pen down. “I’m sorry, Ray.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. Just… what’s going on?”

She didn’t want Ray to think she was losing her mind, but she also didn’t want to minimize Oliver and his tragic story. Felicity chewed on her lip. “I met the ghost. The one at Verdant House. I met him.”

Ray blinked at her for a few long moments. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You honestly believe that you saw… no, that you _met_ a ghost. And that it’s a man?”

“Yes. I know it sounds weird—“

“No, it doesn’t sound weird, Felicity,” he said. “It sounds _ludicrous_! Ghosts are not real. I don’t know what you thought you saw, who you thought you met, but it wasn’t a ghost.”

It’s not like she expected Ray to understand, but it was still a little disheartening to see his reaction. She wondered if that’s what she’d sounded like before last week. 

“Duly noted,” she muttered, looking down at her hands where she had them folded on top of the desk. 

Ray stood up. “I just… hope that whatever it really is that’s on your mind, that you can put it aside and focus on this merger. This is a huge deal for the company, Felicity. I don’t have to tell you that.”

“I know, Ray. No, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll try harder.”

“Thanks, Felicity. I appreciate it.”

Ray left her office and Felicity let her head fall forward onto her desk with a thunk. Maybe she _was_ losing her mind. It didn’t feel that way though. It felt more like she was losing her heart.

But also… maybe her efforts would be better focused on what she really wanted to be doing right now. And that was helping Oliver. Now that she had access to the full length and breadth of the internet again, she was able to do all the research she hadn’t been able to do at the inn. First, she’d mostly just found superficial things… newspaper references to Oliver as a young man (and all the _very interesting_ things he’d gotten up to with his friend Thomas Merlyn), a story about how his parents died (influenza, tragically) and even an article about Laurel and Tommy’s wedding, just a month after Oliver’s death. 

Felicity sat up and turned her attention back to her computer. If her inspiration for her actual work was waning, she could certainly spend her time on something she actually wanted to do. She was hot on the trail of some official records which were locked down to the public. But Felicity had skills and those skills made internet security open like automatic doors for her. Right now, she was looking up old Starling birth records, focusing on the records that had been locked. 

Thirty minutes later, she found what she was looking for. It was a record of Laurel Merlyn’s child, the official birth record. Her eyes skimmed over the document and she inhaled sharply at what she read. It was what she’d suspected. And she also knew this was something Oliver had to see. She printed out a copy, folded it, and tucked it into her bag. 

***

_December 23, 2016_

Quentin Lance walked into Verdant House, a question already on his lips. A car was outside, a car he remembered coming to the inn just before Felicity had shown up with her mother. When he stepped inside, he heard voices coming from the second floor. He looked up to see Oliver coming down the stairs with another man. 

He recognized Martin Brayer, the appraiser that the Queen Family Trust had sent to evaluate the home so they could sell it. The very same appraiser that Oliver himself, as a ghost, had scared off nearly two weeks ago. 

“Thank you for coming out on such short notice, Mr. Brayer,” Oliver was saying. “And I apologize for any misunderstandings from before.”

“No, I’m the one who is sorry, Mr. Jonas. I let all the rumors about this place get to me,” Martin replied. “I’ll send the finished appraisal directly to the lawyers for the trust, I know they’d like to sell the inn quickly.”

“Yes, I would appreciate that.”

“I just want to say you have a beautiful inn here, everything looks great. There shouldn’t be any difficulty in finding a buyer.”

Quentin just stared as Oliver saw the man out, waving to him from the doorway before closing the door behind him and dusting his hand. 

“There, now that bit of business is taken care of.”

“Was that the appraiser for the trust?” Quentin asked, incredulous. 

“Indeed it was.”

“So… you’ve agreed to let the sale of the inn go through?” He couldn’t believe it. When every single other appraiser, lawyer and agent for the trust had visited in the last few years, in anticipation of Henrietta’s passing, Oliver’s ghost had scared them off in record time. 

Oliver shrugged. “Felicity told me once that I couldn’t stop it, only make everyone’s life miserable while it happened. I realized I had a choice.”

“A choice about what?”

“What sort of man I want to be. When I was alive, I made a lot of mistakes. I was selfish when I was younger, before I went to war. I thought I’d grown so much by the time I made it back home again. I thought I had all the answers, but I still made mistakes. I made _so many_ mistakes. Running rum was selfish. I thought it wasn’t because I was doing it to save the inn. Saving the inn would make Laurel happy. But what I really wanted was an easy to ensure she would love me and stay with me.”

Quentin was surprised. “That’s really insightful of you, Oliver.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” he admitted. “Especially since Felicity has been gone.”

“I miss her too, buddy.”

He could see the weight in the younger man’s shoulders. He was doing so well, fixing things up around the inn and now, getting the inn appraised… It was so much that he would never have done last year at this time. But Quentin could see that the man missed Felicity so much he could hardly stand it. He hoped, for Oliver’s sake at least, that she returned soon. Christmas Eve was tomorrow, after all. Time was growing short. 

“You haven’t heard from her on your device, have you?” he asked hopefully. 

Quentin chuckled at how Oliver referred to his cell phone. “No, I haven’t. I can call her, if you like?”

He looked torn for a moment before shaking his head. “No… no, that’s okay. I know she’s busy with her work.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back in time.”

Oliver nodded. “Yes, I know she will be.” 

He walked away then, off to do some chore or another. Perhaps even bake another pie for the dance tomorrow night. Quentin and Donna were having the event catered but Oliver had insisted on contributing a few home-baked desserts to the effort. He claimed he liked keeping his hands busy. 

As soon as he disappeared into the kitchen, Quentin stepped out on the back porch and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the number Felicity had given him and waited until she picked up the other line. 

“Hello? Quentin?”

“Hey, Felicity. Yeah, it’s me.”

“What’s going on?” She sounded concerned. “Is Oliver okay? Has there been more trouble with the second ghost?”

“No, not so far as I know,” he replied. “I wanted to let you know something.”

“What is it?”

“Oliver called the appraiser in. Actually walked the guy through the house and chatted him up. He’s going through with the sale. Should be about a week until the inn is officially out of our hands.”

“Oh…” 

He recognized the disappointment in her tone because he felt it too. He didn’t want to lose the inn, even if the new owners were in favor of keeping it open, with him as manager. But he knew the chances of that were slim and, frankly, he’d rather have more of a stake in the business than that scenario would allow. 

“Oliver won’t admit it, but I think the whole thing has him tied up,” Quentin told her. “I’m afraid he misses you quite a bit.”

There was dead silence for a long moment and he started to worry that the call had dropped. He looked at the screen of the phone and saw they were still connected. He raised it to his ear again. “Hello? Felicity?”

“I’m here, Quentin. I’m sorry… I just… did you say he misses me?”

He chuckled. “You’re as bad as he is,” he muttered. “I’d go so far as to say the boy is pining.”

“Oh…” She sounded quietly pleased and Quentin imagined she might even be blushing. 

“I just wanted to let you know, and let you know that Oliver was looking for you. I hope you were still planning to be back in time for the Christmas dance?”

He heard her sigh over the line. “I don’t know… the people we were supposed to meet with this afternoon had to push back the meeting and now it’s not going to be until tomorrow morning.”

“Christmas Eve? That’s terrible!”

“I know. I just found out right before you called. I’m pretty upset about it, to be honest.”

“Will you be able to make it?” 

“I honestly don’t know. My boss can’t promise me anything and he keeps telling me how much he needs me here for this. My job is on the line with this.”

“It all comes down to priorities,” he told her. 

“Priorities?”

“What’s more important to you? Your job in Central City? Or the promise you made to Oliver?”

Felicity fell quiet over the line. Quentin could almost hear the gears working in her mind. 

“I’ll let you go and think about it… just keep in mind what I said.” He hoped she did more than just keep his words in mind. He hoped she headed here as soon as she could. But he couldn’t force her, it had to be her choice. 

“I will.Thank you, Quentin.”

***

_December 23, 2016_

Oliver paced most of the night. Felicity wasn’t here and he was starting to doubt that she’d make it in time, which left him feeling untethered and irritable. He wasn’t upset with her; Quentin had explained that her big meeting had been rescheduled. He understood such pressures, probably better than anyone else. 

But the disappointment was keen. Sitting down to read a book just wasn’t cutting it that night, after he was alone again, so he walked around the property. He thought a lot about the twelve days he got every year, he thought about how many years he’d wasted those days. 

He ended up out in the garden. It was cold and dark but the cold didn’t bother him much, not anymore, and the dark suited his mood pretty well. The fact that cold didn’t bother him probably had something to do with the fact that he was actually _dead_. But cold hadn’t been an issue for him in 95 years. So he was able to pace around the snow covered bushes and brood without getting too chilled. At least, that’d been his experience.

Oliver sat down on the stone bench out by the hedge and lay back on it, staring up at the stars in the clear night sky. No matter how many decades passed, those stars always stayed the same. It was comforting, somehow. He realized he wanted to learn more about those stars, about what worlds were out there, what had been discovered over the years that he’d missed out on. Keeping up with news hadn’t been priority of his. Sure, he’d read a few periodicals and a few books left by guests over the years, but he’d made it a point to stay away from current events. 

But now he was having a change of heart. He wanted to know more about this world, the advancements and discoveries that his fellow man had managed. He was sure Felicity could help him out with that endeavor. In fact, he rather believed she would relish the opportunity to share knowledge with him. 

The thought made him smile. 

And so… he drifted off to sleep while gazing at the stars and thinking of Felicity’s beautiful smile… 

***

_December 24, 2016_

Oliver woke to the distant sound of piano music. He shifted and hissed immediately at the pain he felt. There was an actual crick in his neck. Not only that, but he actually felt cold. It was the first time in 95 years that he’d felt legitimately cold. And it was no small wonder, having slept outside in the snow all night. 

Slept… wait. He’d _slept_. 

Oliver sat up slowly, rubbing his head. “That’s definitely new,” he murmured. He hadn’t slept during his twelve days… probably _ever_. 

He heard the music again, drifting over the cold morning air, and realized it was coming from inside the inn. As he stood up, he realized the music was “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. 

As if drawn by a spell, Oliver stumbled forward, up the stairs to the patio and through the door. The music was louder inside and he continued forwards. Who was playing, if not him? He didn’t dare to trust the hope that was already blooming in his heart. 

He rounded the corner and found the piano… and it’s unlikely player. 

She was having a more difficult time with the melody than he did, which was fine, he could teach her. But her fingers moved over the keys and her ponytail bobbed playfully as she moved to reach all the keys and he found her style more than made up for any technical faults. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her fondly. 

When she finished the song, she turned around in her seat and smiled at him. “Hey you,” she said. 

“You came,” he said simply. 

“It all came down to priorities,” she told him, grinning. 

His heart knocked in his chest and Oliver realized with a stunning clarity: he loved her. In fact, he loved her so much it stole the wind out of his lungs. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“I’m glad you do,” he said. “I missed… having you here.” He didn’t want to scare her off… he knew he couldn’t have any sort of future with her, but just having her companionship… it meant the world to him. If that’s all he could have, he would take it. Gladly. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowing rather adorably. 

“Not a thing is wrong. You’re here now.” It was the truth. 

“I saw you sleeping in the garden when I drove up,” she said with a teasing smile as she got up from the piano bench. “I thought you didn’t sleep.”

“I don’t,” he said. 

“Hmm. That’s interesting.” She stopped right before him and looked up. Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses and he was again struck by the desire to kiss her. 

Instead, he took her in his arms and gave her a hug. She held on, burying her face in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and protect her for the rest of her life. 

Finally, he released her. “Come on into the kitchen. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“You don’t have to…” she said. 

“Nonsense. I want to.” He lead the way back to the kitchen and she followed behind him. 

“What’ll it be this morning?”

“How about oatmeal?” he suggested, then laughed when she wrinkled her nose. “It’s good for you. Warm and nourishing and stays with you. You look like you could use a good nourishing meal anyhow, I doubt you ate much back in Central City.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You’re acting more like a mother than my own mother,” she told him. 

He grinned. “I just want you well fed when you’re under my roof,” he replied. 

“Fine, do your worst.” She said sitting down at the kitchen table to watch him work. 

“Worst,” he scoffed. “My oatmeal is legendary. You’ll be asking for it after this.”

He caught what he said and froze. It was his last day… there was no guarantee that he’d see her ever again. Would she come out here again next year? He wanted to believe she would but life happened. 

Felicity just smiled though. “We’ll see about that, mister.”

Oliver relaxed and went about gathering the ingredients. “Quentin told me that your meeting got rescheduled. What happened with that?” 

She sighed. “The meeting is probably happening right now, as we speak.”

“What are you doing here, then? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Like I said. I realized my priorities. When I asked Ray to delay the meeting until after the holiday, he refused. Then he told me if I weren’t at the meeting, I would lose my job. I’d suspected as much, so that wasn’t a big surprise.”

“Lose your job!” Oliver cried, indignant on her behalf. He began cooking the oats while he prepared the rest of his ingredients and chopped up some fruit. “Over missing a meeting?”

“It’s a pretty important meeting. And I can’t really blame Ray for the ultimatum. Honestly, before a couple weeks ago, I probably would have done the same thing.”

Oliver had a hard time reconciling the Felicity he knew with that, but then he remembered what Quentin had said over their chess game at the start of the week. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who was changed. 

“So what does this mean for your job?” he wanted to know. 

Felicity shrugged. “I don’t have one.”

“Do you know what you’ll do?” 

“No,” she said, sounding resigned. “But I do have some ideas. I’ll figure it out after the holidays. I want to just enjoy this, especially tonight.”

That made him grin. She’d wanted to be here tonight. She didn’t even celebrate Christmas, but she wanted to be here for him. Still, that reminded him about something. “Wait, doesn’t Hanukkah start tonight? Don’t you want to spend that time with your mother?”

Felicity waved her hand. “My mom will be here tonight too, you forget. We’ll celebrate other nights. Tonight is important.”

The words “to you” were left unspoken and Oliver ducked his head to hide his pleased smile as he stirred the oatmeal. 

“Have you had any more ghost sightings?” she asked. “I asked Quentin but he didn’t really know.”

“Only when I look in the mirror,” he replied, throwing her a grin. 

“Quentin told me something about you having the inn appraised. That’s a turnaround from when I first met you.”

Oliver nodded. He spooned the oatmeal into bowls and added some ingredients to Felicity’s… chocolate chips, sliced strawberries and sliced bananas. When he set it down in front of her, he noticed her eyes lit up at the sight. 

“Yes, I did. I felt I needed to right that wrong, since I chased the man off before.”

Her smile was soft as she regarded him. “Why did you do it?” she asked. “You were so opposed to the selling of the inn before. What changed your mind.”

“You did,” he replied simply, sitting down with his own bowl, topped with blueberries and brown sugar. “I thought about what you said and realized you were right.”

Felicity’s eyes went wide. “Oh my. Those are the three words every woman wants to hear,” she murmured. 

At Oliver’s questioning look, she grinned. 

“‘You were right’,” she repeated. “Sounds _amazing_.”

He threw his head back and laughed. She was too adorable for words. 

“I’m glad you did it,” she told him. “Even if I’m upset at the thought of someone buying this place. There’s no way I have enough money on my own to buy it.”

“I know, you told me,” he said. But he didn’t feel like she was offering solely on his account. He thought she probably wanted to save the inn just for her own self at this point, which filled his heart with warmth to think of it. 

“I actually have something for you,” she told him. “I found it while I was home, doing some research on you and your family on the internet.”

“What is it?” he asked, curious. 

“Let’s finish our breakfast first and I’ll show you,” she said. She took a bit bite and made a tantalizing moaning sound. “Oh my god, this oatmeal _is_ amazing.”

He smiled. “I told you so.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve has arrived. Everything comes to a head as the mystery is finally realized and resolved.

After breakfast, they walked into the parlor. Felicity suitcase has been left there and in the front pocket was the print-out she wanted to share with Oliver. She really had just gone straight the piano after she arrived, she wanted to wake up Oliver right away. If they only had today to spend together, she hadn’t wanted to waste a moment.

“Why don’t you sit on the sofa,” she suggested. 

Oliver dipped his head and then sat on the sofa, tucking his long legs in as much as he could. She unzipped the pocket on her rollaway suitcase and pulled the folded paper out. She walked back to the sofa and sat next to him. What she had to share might not be easy for him, but she also knew he deserved to hear it. And she hoped that it gave him closure and peace. 

“While I was in Central City, I did some digging around in old sealed records,” she told him. “I found this.”

She handed him the paper and he unfolded it. She watched as he scanned the page. “It’s a copy of a birth certificate.”

“Yes.”

“It’s Laurel Merlyn’s child,” he said and his voice shook a little. “They named the baby Oliver.” 

“They did,” she said. “After _you_.”

He lifted a hand to his face, covering his mouth. His eyes were moist. “They remembered me,” he said. “That’s… that means a lot.”

She realized he wasn’t seeing what was right in front of him. “Oliver, look who is listed as the baby’s father.”

He looked again at the paper and his eyes went wide. “It’s me. I’m listed as the father.”

“You were that baby’s father,” she told him. 

His eyes filled as he set the paper down and looked at her. “Does this mean the marriage wasn’t real after all? She didn’t betray me?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Felicity said. “But no, I don’t think Laurel betrayed you. And it really doesn’t seem like the marriage was real, at least not for her.”

Oliver nodded thoughtfully. “In my time, a woman who was pregnant outside of wedlock was a scandal. Tommy likely did her a favor in marrying her. Though, I still think he was secretly in love with her all along.”

“She loved you, Oliver. That’s what matters.”

“Yes, she did.” He turned his sad eyes on her. “My child died just hours after being born. Laurel died days later.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t even know how to begin to grieve this,” he admitted. “But I’m glad that I know.”

Felicity acted on impulse and reached for him, pulling him into her arms. She hugged him close and his arms came around her, his face burying into her neck and shoulder. She could feel where his tears wet her shirt and she held him tighter. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for giving me this.”

“I’m so happy that I could,” she said, smoothing her hand over the back of his head. His hair was so soft. 

She held him for a while and knew that he was crying. It loosened something in her chest that he felt comfortable enough with her to cry in her arms. She wanted to hold him tighter, keep him here in her arms, never let him go. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t hers to keep. 

The front door opened then and the voices of Quentin and Donna floated in. Felicity released Oliver and he sat back, wiping at his eyes before getting to his feet. She worried for a brief moment that he might draw back from the intimacy of this moment together, but he reached for her hand, dispelling those fears. 

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He continued to hold her hand as they followed the voices into the ballroom, where Quentin and Donna had carried a few boxes of decorations for the dance that night. They were teasing each other and hadn’t even noticed Oliver and Felicity yet. They stood in the doorway, watching the other pair. 

Felicity noticed her mother was smiling and laughing and looked so young and happy, more so than she’d probably ever seen her. Donna was a bubbly, cheerful person but Felicity knew she also hid old hurts underneath a positive exterior. Right now, she saw pure delight on her mother’s face and it warmed her heart. Quentin made her happy. One of them needed to make a move. 

“Hey you two,” Felicity said. 

Their heads snapped in their direction and her mother let out a squeal before running over and throwing her arms around her. Felicity hugged her back, laughing at her enthusiasm. 

“You made it!” she cried. 

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna manage,” Quentin admitted. But he was smiling. 

“I realized what my priorities were,” she told him and he nodded and looked over her shoulder to Oliver. 

“I’m just so glad you’ll be here for the dance tonight,” Donna said. “You did bring a dress, didn’t you?”

“Of course, Mom,” she said. 

“The caterers should be here at four o’clock…”

“I am still perfectly willing and able to do the cooking,” Oliver said. “Especially if I had help in the kitchen.” He looked at Felicity then. 

“I’m terrible in the kitchen,” she reminded him. 

“Yes, but you _can_ follow directions, can you not?” he asked, an eyebrow cocked in challenge. 

“Don’t be silly,” Donna chastised him. “It’s too much work and I want you to be able to enjoy yourself. You’re making the desserts and that’s more than enough.”

Oliver grumbled but his smile gave him away. He was just happy to participate and he wanted to show off his skills. Having tasted his creations, Felicity had no doubt that he’d manage to impress the townspeople who were coming to celebrate tonight. 

“Do you two want some help decorating?” Felicity offered, peeking in the boxes at the decorations. 

“I think we’ve got it,” Quentin said. “You’ll be busy helping Oliver with those desserts and we’ll let you know if we need anything.”

They all agreed on this and Felicity followed Oliver into the kitchen to help him roll out cookies and fill pies and stir fudge. She was _terrible_ in the kitchen, but Oliver was patient and told her exactly what he needed her to do so it actually worked out really well. She felt pretty useful and found she was able to put her artistic skills to work in decorating the cookies when they came out of the oven. 

“I’m so glad you finally agreed to let them have the Christmas dance here,” Felicity told him as she piped frosting onto a cookie reindeer. 

Oliver shrugged as he poured cherry filling into a pie crust. “I realized that the dance _should_ be here. That’s the tradition, that’s always how it was. Ever since I died, I wanted to close off from everything and that included the inn. I’m starting to think that wasn’t fair to everyone else in town… Verdant House is the perfect location for the dance and it should be here, every year.”

Felicity smiled at him. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

He smiled back. “I also missed it. I missed so many things in my life.”

The look he gave her left no question about what he meant. Her heart started to pound… it was becoming rather clear that he had feelings for her, perhaps the same sort of feelings she had for him. The realization made her feel a bit giddy. The worries pressed in, as they always did. But somehow she felt as though her heart was safe in Oliver’s hands. As uncertain as their mutual futures were, there was something that felt right when she was here with him. So for now, for today at least, she was just going to put the rest out of her mind and go with her heart. 

***

The afternoon passed in a blur of powdered sugar, white twinkle lights and Christmas music. Felicity could easily say she’d never done so much Christmasing before in her whole life. But Donna had insisted on Judaism being represented with some tasteful Hanukkah decorations in the ballroom, including a menorah positioned next to the Christmas tree, which they’d moved from the parlor. 

And now it was time to get ready for the dance. Felicity had pushed it off until guests started arriving and her mother shooed her and Oliver both off. She took her time making sure her hair was done, pulling it back into an elegant twist that exposed her neck. She wore contacts, which she tried not to do to often because her eyes dried out and they started to feel weird after a few hours. 

Her makeup looked good as well, with a little bit of a smokey eye and a bright red lipstick to make a statement with. The lipstick matched well with her dress. Red looked good on her and this dress was perfect for the occasion. The skirt flared out at her hips, the hem dancing above her knees. Her shoulders were bare, giving her a rather risqué look, especially with her hair up. But her mother had popped up for a moment while she was putting on her makeup and had loudly and vocally approved of her dress so that had to be a good sign. 

Or a bad sign. Her mother had some strange tastes in clothing and what was appropriately sexy. 

There was a knock at her bedroom door as Felicity was pushing a diamond stud into her ear. “Coming!” she called, knowing it was probably Oliver. It was just like him to call on her at her bedroom door. 

She pulled open the door and saw that it was indeed Oliver. But she wasn’t expecting him dressed in a new suit and looking as sharp as he did. Her mouth fell open as she took him in. 

“Wow!” He looked like something off the cover of a romance novel. This man was born to wear a suit, it fit his frame to perfection.

“You look beautiful, Felicity,” he told her earnestly, his eyes speaking to his appreciation. 

She blushed and stepped back to allow him into the room. “I just need to slip on my shoes and I’m ready,” she told him. 

“Okay,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and looked so utterly delicious in that suit that Felicity almost had a hard time tearing her eyes off of him so she could find her silver heels. But she did and it only took a moment to step into them. 

“Before we go down,” she said, stepping over to the night table where a small wrapped package sat, “I have something I want to give you.”

“Oh… you didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. 

She set the gift in his hand. “It’s not really anything new,” she admitted. “Open it.”

“Intriguing,” he murmured as he pulled the ribbon off and lifted the lid on the small box. 

Nestled inside was the gold pocket watch he’d given her just a few days ago. He looked amazed to see it. 

“It didn’t disappear?” 

Felicity shook her head. “It didn’t. And it opens.”

Oliver’s eyebrows flew up and he lifted the watch out of the box reverently. He thumbed the clasp and the watch opened. It ticked steadily away. He tilted the watch and saw the inscription on the inside. 

“Oliver Jonas Queen,” she said. 

He closed and held it tight. “This is amazing, Felicity. Thank you.”

She smiled at him as he slipped the watch into his pocket. “Maybe now you’ll have something to remember _me_ by.”

“I don’t need a thing to remind me of you,” he murmured. 

His eyes burned into hers and she was pulled inexorably closer. She breathed him in; he smelled _amazing_. Her heart screamed at her to take a chance, to make a bold move. So she pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. 

His mouth was so soft, an interesting contrast to the rough stubble that covered his jaw. Oliver didn’t respond beyond grabbing her hips lightly. She kept the kiss chaste and dropped back down. She smiled up at him and he stared down at her as though he didn’t know what to make of her. 

She didn’t regret it. 

“Come on. Let’s go downstairs and join the party,” she said, holding her hand out to him. He took it and together, they left her room and walked down the stairs. 

***

Felicity might have worried that kissing Oliver was the wrong move to make, given that he hadn’t kissed her back. But he held her hand all the way down to the ballroom and as they stood, watching the people mingle and dance, he continued to hold her hand. 

They saw Quentin and Donna, still circling one another and no one making a move. “I really hope that changes tonight,” Felicity said, nodding her head in their direction. 

“It might. This is a good night for a bold move,” Oliver said. Felicity hid her snort, but just barely. 

“Indeed it is,” she agreed. As they watched, Quentin asked Donna to dance and she accepted with a huge grin. Felicity felt a warm, settled feeling, watching the two of them move to the dance floor and into each other’s arms. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, smiling down at her. 

She thought he’d never ask. “I would love to dance with you, Oliver Queen.”

He lead her to the middle of the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. He lead her through the steps of a waltz, a dance she’d never tried before. Oliver was light on his feet and moved with a surprising grace. 

“You’re really good at this,” she told him, a little surprised. 

“My mother would be proud. She was always after me to take dance lessons in school and I hated them so much.”

“Looks like those lessons paid off.”

It felt fantastic, moving around the floor with Oliver’s arms around her, guiding her through the steps. He knew what he was doing and she trusted him to lead her. He made it easy, made it feel natural. Their bodies moved together as though they’d been dancing together for years. Felicity felt like she was in a dream and she never wanted to wake up. 

“Can you promise me something?” he asked her, his lips nearly brushing her ear as he spoke. 

“Depends on what it is,” she replied, smiling and sure that whatever he asked of her, she’d give to him gladly.

“Can you make sure that whomever buys this inn, that there is a dance here every year?”

Felicity knew that there was no real way she could promise that. There was no telling what the future owners would want to do. Oliver knew this. But she also understood why he was asking her. He didn’t want to let go, not just yet. 

“I will,” she promised. 

The music slowed down and Oliver drew her in close. Felicity rested her head against his chest, listening the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. He was warm and strong and solid and it was so easy to convince herself that he was alive, that this was a possibility. Her heart was lost to her, she’d fallen in love with this man and it was the most foolish thing she could have ever done. 

She didn’t get to keep him. 

Felicity could feel the time growing short and it was pressing in on her. They hadn’t solved his curse and he would leave her in just a few hours. The disappointment she felt in herself over that was keen. It wasn’t like her father, packing up and leaving. Oliver wasn’t leaving by choice… but Felicity could have done something to keep him. That was a hard pill to swallow. 

“I wish we had more time,” she murmured. 

“I do too,” he replied. His arms tightened around her. “More than you know.”

“We failed…”

He drew back so he could look down into her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We weren’t able to solve your mystery or break the curse or anything… We wasted all this time.”

He smiled and shook his head. Then, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Oh, Felicity. We did not fail. This time was _not_ wasted. I feel like I’m living again, for the first time in 95 years. That is not a waste. And that is thanks to you.”

Felicity felt her cheeks heat up but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” His eyes were soft. “You are my gift, Felicity. I wouldn’t trade these last twelve days for anything.”

“Me either,” she murmured. 

“Pardon me, may I cut in?”

A tap on Oliver’s shoulder broke the spell between them. They drew apart and saw one of the men from town, looking at both of them expectantly. Felicity thought she recognized him from one of her trips into town to shop. He knew her mother somehow, she thought, but she’d already forgotten his name. He was wanting to cut in on their dance and have a turn with her. Felicity wanted to cling to Oliver, but she understood the etiquette of the situation. 

“Yes, you may,” Oliver said, releasing her. Maybe she imagined him doing so reluctantly but she really hoped not. 

Oliver moved away and man moved in. As she got a good look at his face, she remembered suddenly who he was; Jerry, the bartender at her mother’s pub. He nodded and smiled to Oliver as he began to steer her around the dance floor and Felicity watched as Oliver walked over to the bar to serve up some drinks to a few party-goers who were lingering in the area. 

Jerry was a nice enough guy, but he wasn’t Oliver. As Felicity danced with him, she found herself anxious to return to Oliver’s arms while they still had time. 

***

Quentin wandered over to the bar while Oliver was serving up a gin and tonic to one of the townspeople.He leaned against the bar-top and gave Oliver a wry look. 

“You got upstaged too, eh?” he asked. 

When Oliver looked at him curiously, he nodded towards the dance floor where Oliver not only saw Felicity dancing with the young man who interrupted them, but Donna dancing with someone else as well. 

“Ahh… yes. It’s a shame that courtesy demands it, isn’t it?” he remarked. 

Quentin agreed. 

“Can I get you a soda?” Oliver asked. 

“Uh… sure. How about a Pepsi?”

“Coming right up.” 

Oliver served him up some Pepsi in a glass, garnishing it with a cherry. Then, the two of them watched the women they were interested in dancing with other men. “Are you going to get your woman back?” Oliver asked him with a grin. 

“I’ll let the guy have a dance,” Quentin said magnanimously. “After that, I’m going to steal her away. I have an idea I want to talk to her about.”

Oliver nodded. “Maybe I’ll steal a few private moments with Felicity too,” he mused. 

“Now’s the time,” he reminded him. 

He did not need to be reminded that the clock was ticking and he was running out of moments to spend with Felicity. He felt each tick of the clock in his heart. 

“Don’t waste time,” Oliver told Quentin. “With Donna. Or anything else important. Don’t wait for the perfect moment.”

The older man nodded. “I won’t, Oliver. I’m making my moves now. It’s… time to move on with my life.”

“Same here,” he agreed. “You want to talk about living in the past…”

The both of them chuckled. 

“Well… here I go,” Quentin said, taking a deep breath. He moved away from the bard, marching in long strides across the dance floor to Donna. Oliver watched as the older man cut in on the dancing pair. He saw Donna’s eyes light up, a smile bloom across her lips. Quentin pulled her into his arms and they started to dance. 

He was just contemplating doing the same thing with Felicity when he felt a small, gloved hand slot into his. Immediately, he looked to his left but… no one was there. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he scanned the crowd. The song changed… it was “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. He caught a flash of honey brown hair, across the room, through a small crowd of people. Was that… Laurel? 

Oliver moved out from behind the bar, towards that flash of _her_. 

He saw her again, this time, her full figure. She stood near the hallway, leading towards the back door. She wore the same dress he remembered seeing her in that night… that night when he lost it all. She looked at him, a small, secret smile curving her lips, and turned away, walking towards the back door. Oliver followed her. 

He followed her to the back porch and watched as she stood there, her shawl wrapped around her to ward off the cold. He recognized that devastated expression on her face. In fact, any minute now… 

The back door flew open and Thea came out, closing it behind her. 

“Laurel, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” she cried. 

“Thea, go back inside. I just… I needed some air.”

His sister’s expression was disbelieving. “Laurel, please don’t lie to me. You’re out here hoping to see my brother come walking up to the house.”

Laurel blinked a few times and turned away. “He did say he would be here by tonight. It’s a few minutes until midnight. He might still come…”

“Oh, honey. Please stop this. You’re hurting yourself, lying to yourself. My brother hasn’t changed as much as he would have you believe. He’s a leopard, and a leopard doesn’t change their spots.”

Laurel wiped at her eyes, dashing away tears. “Thea… I can’t give up hope in him.”

Oliver felt as though his feet were rooted to the porch, unable to move, transfixed by the scene that was playing out before him. In his memories, he’d always seen this moment from the woods, never hearing what was said. But this was right here now, and he was hearing every word. And that _song_ was playing still… 

“He’s been gone twelve days,” Laurel said. 

“Yes! Twelve days should tell you something, Laurel. He’s forgotten his promise to you and he’s not coming back. He’s _not_ changed.”

Laurel shook her head. “No… Twelve days is long enough for a man to learn from his mistakes and repent. I still believe in him. He will learn.”

Oliver stared at her, at the conviction that was clear on her face. Suddenly, like the sun dawning over the woods to the east, he began to realize something. Something _very_ important. There was a _reason_ he was hearing this long dead conversation. 

“It will be a _miracle_ when he does. A Christmas miracle, if you want to believe in such a thing. And I do,” Laurel insisted. 

Thea embraced Laurel, letting her cry into her shoulder and Oliver looked on, stunned by his realization. This was why he gets twelve days each year. It’s so he can realize his mistakes and repent. He’s gobsmacked as the vision of Thea leads Laurel back inside the inn and they disappear like smoke in the wind. 

Oliver stumbled back inside. He needed to find Felicity and tell her. He hurried to the ballroom and as soon as he reached the doorway, he locked eyes with her. She was stepping away from her dance partner and their connected through the crowds of people. He was about to start towards her when he saw something else. Some _one_ else. 

Tommy. Through the crowds of people, standing there with his hat pulled over his forehead, a dark look on his face.. And a large, blood-stained stone clutched in one hand. As soon as he saw Oliver, he turned and walked away, disappearing through a solid wall. 

Oliver swore under his breath and took off after him, following the pull he felt upstairs. He could hear heels clattering on the stairs behind him and knew Felicity was following him. Whether she’d seen Tommy too or not, he didn’t know. And he didn’t have time right then to stop and ask her. 

“Hello, Ollie.” 

Oliver came to a stop and held out a hand to stop Felicity from going around him. Tommy stood at one end of the second floor hallway and two of them stood at the other. His friend… the _ghost_ of his friend… stood rigid and tense. Right then, Oliver wasn’t sure what he might do or even what he could do. 

“I know,” Oliver told him

“What is it that you know?” 

Oliver turned to look at Felicity. Her eyes were wide. “Do you see him?” he asked her. 

She nodded. “I do.Who is it?”

“My best friend. Thomas Merlyn. I just saw him downstairs, in the ballroom, with a bloody rock in his hand. The one he used to kill me 95 years ago.” He shifted a little closer to the man standing at the other end of the hallway. 

“I realized two people were not at the party that night, two people that might have killed me,” Oliver said. “Damien Darhk is one. But Damien Darhk would never do that sort of dirty work himself. He would send someone else to do it. Someone who knew my route through the woods. Perhaps because it was their route too.”

“Ollie… I didn’t want to but Darhk gave me no choice. You shouldn’t have quit the way you did and just leave like that. Darhk was furious, all his men were afraid you’d rat out the whole operation.”

“I would never have done that,” Oliver said. “I just wanted out, I would have kept everything to myself.”

“I tried to tell Darhk that but he wouldn’t hear it. He wanted me to find you, and kill you. He didn’t care how. But he told me he would have your whole family killed, Laurel, her father… and then he’d have my family killed as well if I didn’t do it.”

Oliver stared at his best friend, at the tears shining in his eyes and the way his hands were shaking… he realized Tommy was afraid of his anger and judgement. 

“Why haven’t you moved on, Tommy? Why are you still here?” he asked him, though he felt like he already knew the answer. He realized the reason Tommy had been haunting this inn was because he couldn’t let go of his own guilt over what he’d done. Somehow, that released something within him. Oliver felt his shoulders relax and he took another step towards his friend. 

“I can’t move on until you move on,” Tommy said. 

Felicity made her presence known then, and Oliver could feel the irritation pouring off her as she took a step forward. “Oliver is unable to move on because of you! You cursed him to this! You killed him and then you cursed him!”

Oliver raised a hand, placing it on her wrist. “No, Felicity. It’s okay. That’s not why I’m here. It’s not a curse.”

“It’s not?” she asked, her brow furrowing adorably. “But then… how?”

Oliver looked up and saw Laurel peeking around a doorframe at the end of the hall, behind where Tommy stood. She smiled at him knowingly and then turned and disappeared. 

“It’s not a curse that keeps me here. It’s a miracle,” he said. He looked to Tommy and nodded. “It’s true. I’ve just figured it out tonight. It was Laurel.”

“Laurel?” Tommy questioned, looking utterly confused. 

“She had so much faith in me,” Oliver said. “I’m not sure I deserved all the faith she had in me, but she had it. She believed I was a better man than I was. She loved me when she shouldn’t have.”

“She always thought the best of you, Ollie.” 

“I know. That’s why I loved her. But I didn’t deserve her,” he agreed. “Tommy, if fear of my judgement is what’s keeping you here, then I forgive you.”

“Wait, what?” Felicity said from behind him. 

“I’m with her on this,” Tommy said. “How can you say that, Ollie?”

“Because you’re my best friend. And because I have no right to judge anyone because I’m full of faults. I did this to myself, I am here of my own doing. _I_ am the reason that I am still here.”

He looked back at Felicity and saw her eyes shining with unshed tears. She nodded a little at him, smiling a little weakly. She bit her lip and he turned his attention back to his friend. 

“This time I had here, it was a blessing for me, Tommy. I didn’t realize it for so long and I wasted 95 years. But I also believe that those 95 years were also a blessing. Because if it hadn’t taken me that long to realize that Laurel had given me a gift that Christmas Eve night, I might never have met Felicity. And I’m so glad that I did. She changed everything for me.”

Tommy’s eyes were also glistening. “Ollie, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I took your life from you. I married Laurel when she was yours. Even in death she was yours.”

Oliver shook his head. “She was never mine. And yes, you do, Tommy. Everyone deserves forgiveness. I’ve learned that I do, and you do as well.”

“I’m so sorry,” his best friend said simply. 

Oliver crossed the remaining distance between them and embraced the other man. He hugged him tight, feeling him tremble. “Don’t be afraid, Tommy. Have faith.”

Tommy hugged him back and then slowly released him, stepping back. Tears tracked down his cheeks. “Thank you, Oliver.”

He shook his friend’s hand for the last time. “You’re welcome, Tommy.”

Then, before his very eyes… Tommy Merlyn disappeared from view. He was gone. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock strikes midnight on Christmas Eve and everything changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to everyone who read this story! I worked so hard to try to get it ready for you guys! I love the support. I know the Olicity fandom is having a hard time right now, less people are reading fic, sharing fic, commenting, kudosing, liking, retweeting, reblogging... And that's sad but only because I feel like FIC is what gets us through the hard times. But it also makes me so much more grateful for those of you who ARE still supporting fic, not just this one but all the other fics that are being posted right now (and there are SO MANY good ones!). Keep it up, keep the faith, keep this fandom alive. Celebrate this OTP. 
> 
> Big thanks to my twitter wives, you all know who you are.

Verdant House was quiet once more. It was nearly midnight, all the guests had finally gone home and Oliver and Felicity were left alone. They’d just watched Quentin and Donna leave… in the same vehicle no less. The two had been giving each other such potent heart eyes that Felicity had threatened to hose them down as they’d said their goodbyes. It was a testament to the high Quentin was currently riding that he didn’t scowl at her empty threat.

Felicity decided to leave the ballroom as it was… they could clean that up tomorrow. Or the day after. Right now, it was five minutes until midnight and her time with Oliver was drawing painfully short. 

They hadn’t really had a chance to _talk_ after the episode with the ghost of Thomas Merlyn upstairs in the hallway. Oliver had wanted to return to the guests directly after and they’d danced some more, mingled with people and enjoyed the party. Felicity wanted to spend a little time with her mother, even though they couldn’t quite do much in the way of Hanukkah celebrations that night, she did want to enjoy her. For once in her adult life, Felicity genuinely wanted to get to know her mother better. She already was planning to spend more time visiting Starling. Perhaps she could even help out at the pub… 

“So… everyone’s gone,” she said to him. Oliver was throwing some paper plates in a garbage bag and when she spoke, he set it aside and focused on her. “What now?”

“It’s nearly midnight,” he said. 

She nodded. “Honestly though… when you were speaking to Tommy and when he disappeared… I expected you to disappear too.”

“I half expected it myself,” he admitted. 

“Why are you still here? I mean… I’m not complaining. I’m glad you’re here. But I thought once we figured out the mystery and why you were cursed, for lack of a better word, that you would, you know… move on.”

“I’m not sure why I’m still here, Felicity,” he said, crossing the short distance between them. “But I’m glad for the extra moments with you.”

She swallowed, both thrilled by his nearness and the soft look in his eyes and dreading him being stolen away from her. “Do you think you’ll disappear at midnight?” she asked. “What happens all the other years?”

“At midnight on Christmas Eve, I lose my corporeal form. Its like falling asleep into a nightmare.”

She shivered and he pulled her into his arms, warming her. Felicity blinked back tears, knowing this might be the last time she felt his warmth. “Do you think you’ll be back next year?”

“I thought once I figured out why I was here, that I’d _know_ , but I honestly don’t.”

“I’d apologize for failing to fix this for you,” she told him, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she looked up at him. “But I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry that you’re still here. It would break my heart if you were gone.”

“Felicity…” He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. 

“You know, I waited a long time to see if I could even fall in love with anyone. I was starting to think it wouldn’t happen… _couldn’t_ happen. I worried that I was dead inside, that somehow my parents split and my father just leaving us the way he did closed off something inside my heart. But I learned, these last twelve days, that I can fall in love because I fell in love with you, Oliver. I don’t want you to move on or go into the light or disappear because I want you with me.”

“Do you know that all I’ve wanted for 95 years was a chance to be free, to not be stuck here, year after year, to get free of the nightmare? If you’d asked me twelve days ago if I would be reluctant to be rid of this half-life existence, I would have told you that you were insane. But… I am reluctant. I don’t want to move on without you, Felicity. I just have gotten to know you and I already can’t imagine this… _whatever it is_ without you.”

Tears spilled over and Felicity wanted to burrow into Oliver’s chest. “You know, twelve days is better than none,” she said, hiccuping a little. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll be here every year and we’ll have those twelve days.”

He lifted her chin, using his finger and then brushed her tears away, smiling sadly. “And how long would that work? I’m aging, but not more than twelve days a year—“

“That’s a little over three years… since 1921,” she cut in. “Which makes you 33, right?”

He couldn’t fight his grin. “Right. God, I love your mind. I’ve never known a woman with such an insatiable thirst for knowledge and who isn’t afraid to be the smartest woman in the room.” Oliver sighed. “But it means that you’ll soon grow much older than I am. You’d be wasting your life away, waiting for twelve days with me. And I’d have to watch you die long before I’m ready for it… I’m not sure I could bear that.”

Felicity hated how much sense he was making. “I know all this but… Oliver… I don’t know what else to do. I know it’s not a conventional relationship but… I can’t pretend that I don’t feel this. Don’t you feel it too?”

“Of course I feel it,” he told her. “Felicity, I fell in love with you too. You _saved_ me. And you inspire me. You make me laugh and you make my heart race. Do you know how long it’s been since my heart has raced?”

Felicity couldn’t reply as a sob tore out of her throat. He _loved_ her. She’d had boyfriends in the past who had told her that they loved her but she’d never really _felt_ what that means. She’d only felt uncomfortable at knowing she’d have to let the poor guy down gently. This time, a man loved her and it thrilled her to the very marrow in her bones. And, miracle of all miracles, she loved him back. 

It was just the worst possible luck of all time that she didn’t get to keep him.

“Oliver, I just… I can’t let you go.”

“I don’t want to let you go either, not when I’ve just found you,” he said. “But you deserve more than this. You deserve someone who is there for you and with you every day, who helps you and supports you. I want to be that person more than I can say but… I don’t control my future.”

That was the most tragic thing of all. He wanted to stay but he _couldn’t_. 

“I don’t want someone else,” Felicity whispered. “I want _you_.”

“It’s almost midnight,” he whispered back. 

“I’ll wait for you. I’ll be here next year,” she promised. 

Oliver kissed her. He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her lips towards him as he bent his head. His lips covered hers, pressing and she knew he could taste her tears but she didn’t care. Felicity held onto him, gripping his arms as he kissed her. The electricity between them sparked through her, down to her toes and she leaned into him, feeling drunk on the pure sensation she felt.

He drew back slowly, his lips brushing hers, her face still held fast in his hands and they breathed each other’s air… Felicity heard the clock in the hall strike twelve, the chimes echoing out through the empty inn and her vision began to tunnel. 

“Oliver…?”

She thought he might have called her name but she fell into darkness before it could really register. 

***

When the last chime of the old clock in the hallway rang out, Felicity went limp in his arms, his name on her lips. Oliver held her close, moving his hands down to cup her back and support her as she sagged against him. He could feel her breath on his neck, feel the even, steady beats of her heart against his chest… she was alive, just sleeping. A sudden and deep sleep, apparently. 

It was officially midnight, on the 25 of December. 

He’d expected to disappear… not for Felicity to pass out in his arms. But he was here and she was solid and well in his arms. He smiled fondly down at her face, now peaceful in her sleep. “Oh, Felicity,” he breathed, reaching up to brush a lock of hair off her forehead. “You’ll remember what its like to love, and be loved in return. When you get the chance to fall in love again, you’ll be able to do it. It will happen for you, Felicity, I promise. You are meant to love, I can see it inside of you in everything you do.”

He laid her down on the sofa, making sure her head was cradled by a pillow. He pulled the quilt up over her, the very same one he’d covered her with the time he’d seen her, when she’d been knocked out by that vase and he’d laid her out on this sofa. He’d been so irritated by her presence then. Now? He was loathe to watch her leave. 

“Oliver,” a voice behind him said softly. 

He turned and saw that it was Laurel, smiling gently at him. 

“What is happening?” he asked her. “Why haven’t I disappeared as I always do?”

“Because… the miracle has been fulfilled. And you have a choice to make.”

“A choice?”

She held out a hand to him. “Come with me. I’ll explain.”

Oliver took her hand, noticing her fingers felt cold against his warm skin. She lead him out of the house and down the porch steps. Laurel took him right to the tall iron gates at the front of the property, the very same ones he’d stepped through to prove to Felicity that he was a ghost just twelve days prior. 

“What are we doing here?” he asked her. “Did you bring me here to move on?”

Laurel smiled at him again, the same gentle smile she’d given him inside. “I brought you out here to tell you that you are now free of this place. You are no longer stuck here, returning each year. But ultimately, what you choose to do is up to you.”

“I have a choice? To stay or leave?”

She nodded. “This is an amazing gift for you, Oliver. And you’ve been given it because of the compassion and generosity you showed towards Tommy. You forgave him, even though he’d done you a great injustice.”

“Are you saying that God has seen fit to give me a second chance?”

Her smile turned enigmatic. “If you chose to see it that way.”

“And… you? What about you, Laurel? Please tell me you haven’t been stuck here this whole time.”

“I crossed over many years ago, Oliver,” she told him. “I came back tonight because this is a big night for you. If you choose to cross over, I wanted to be here at your side, holding your hand.”

Oliver’s mind was swimming with thoughts, each pulling him in a different direction. But there was one truth that needed to be spoken. “Laurel, I’ve never deserved the love you gave to me.”

“Don’t you think that’s up to me to decide?” 

Now it was his turn to smile at her. “You were a good woman, Laurel, with a good heart. You believed the best in me, but I didn’t live up to that belief. Not while I was alive, at any rate. But I want you to know that I am _grateful_. Your love and belief meant the world to me and still do.”

Laurel studied him as snow began to fall around them. “You have grown up, Ollie. You’re no longer the young, selfish boy you were. I’m proud of you.”

He ducked his head. “Thank you, Laurel.”

“You’ll make the right choice for you,” she said, nodding. “Good luck, Oliver.”

Oliver watched as she turned and walked through the gate, disappearing in a shimmer of golden light. He blinked back tears and looked back towards the house. Which did he choose? Moving on had been his dream, an _impossible_ dream for so many years. Laurel seemed certain he would make the right choice, but standing in there the newly falling Christmas snow, Oliver had very little idea of what he right choice would be. 

***

Felicity woke up to an utterly silent house. The inn was still around her in a way that it hadn’t been since she first arrived there. 

She was laying on the sofa, still in her red dress, covered with that familiar quilt. Sun was streaming through the parlor room windows, shining across her. Felicity sat up, the blanket pooling at her waist, and felt a horrible sinking in her stomach. 

Oliver was gone. She’d never realized that she could feel his presence in the house until that presence was no longer there. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew it like she knew her own name. 

He’d kissed her. That’s the last thing she remembered before falling asleep. The clock had been chiming out the midnight hour and he’d kissed her. Tears pricked her eyes as she recalled just _perfect_ that kiss had been. His lips were soft but firm against hers, his warm hands cupping her face and holding her close and safe. The scruff of his whiskers scratched and stimulated the skin of her face and he was careful, _so_ careful with her… 

She wished she hadn’t fallen asleep. Or whatever it was that had happened when the clock struck midnight. Had Oliver disappeared and that’s why she didn’t remember, why she had fallen asleep? She might never know. 

Her chin trembled as she pushed the quilt off of her and got to her feet. She wasn’t going to waste time crying over what she’d lost. No, she was going to focus on what she’d gained instead. She didn’t regret a single moment with Oliver. Her time with him had been a gift. Leaving Central City and essentially leaving her job and life there was something that needed to happen.

Billy had been right about that, when he broke up with her just a couple weeks ago. She’d been too absorbed in her job, put too much importance in her role at Palmer Tech and where that job would take her. A career was important but it shouldn’t be _all_ important. And, perhaps now, she could do her own work instead of working for someone else. 

Felicity looked out the windows and saw a few inches of snow had fallen over night but now the sun was out, shining all the brighter, and the sky was a clear, beautiful blue. The scene signaled a fresh start. Maybe that’s what she needed.

She went upstairs to take a shower and change. She also wanted to pack her suitcase, mostly for lack of anything else to do. She didn’t have to go home right away, but maybe she could spend a few days with her mother. Yes, even cramped in that tiny apartment. Felicity wasn’t sure she was all that interested in staying here at Verdant House, not with the memories that felt more bitter than sweet at the moment. 

As she was folding up a pair of jeans, she saw some movement outside the window. It was Quentin, and he had her mother with him. They were walking close, hands clasped and shoulders bumping. She grinned. Regardless of how things had gone for her, personally, it was nice to see that her mother and Quentin had finally gotten their acts together. 

Felicity left her suitcase for later and went downstairs to meet them. They were giggling ( _giggling!_ ) in the foyer when she came down the stairs. Both of them looked up as she called her greeting and she noticed both their eyes were twinkling merrily. 

“So… how are things going, lovebirds?” she asked, teasingly. 

“Absolutely fantastic,” her mother gushed, pushing herself into Quentin’s side. 

“In fact, we have some news,” Quentin said. 

“Oh? What’s up?”

“First off, where’s….err… Jonas?” he asked, barely catching himself before remembering the fake name they’d given her mother when introducing her to Oliver. 

“He… had to leave. I haven’t seen him since last night, after the party,” Felicity told them and she caught Quentin’s eye. He looked resigned and sympathetic. 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Felicity, I know you really liked him,” her mom said, her mouth drawing into a pout. 

“I did,” she admitted. “But don’t let that distract you from telling me your news.” 

Her mother perked right up again. “Well, Quentin and I talked a lot last night, for hours. And we came to a decision that I’m surprised we didn’t think of sooner. About Verdant House.”

“Verdant House?” Felicity was confused. “What is it?”

“We’re buying it,” Quentin announced. “Your mother is selling her pub in-town and I have a good deal of money saved up over the years, never had anyone or anything to spend it on really. Between the two of us, we have enough money to do it.”

Her mouth fell open. That was the _last_ news she’d been expecting to hear. “You’re buying Verdant House?”

Donna nodded excitedly. “We put in an offer last night, late at night. Thank goodness for workaholic lawyers who don’t celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, I suppose. Anyhow, we just got word that the offer was accepted so we came right over here to tell you!”

Felicity embraced both of them, first her mother and then Quentin. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thank you, baby,” her mother said. “Now, I just need to sell the pub.”

Felicity had a kernel of an idea growing in her mind but she kept it to herself for the moment. She had some business to attend to first and she wanted to make some plans before she shared those ideas. 

“For now, we need to go meet with the cleaning crew that’s here to help after last night’s dance,” Quentin said. “Verdant House is open to guests start tomorrow and I’m expecting several reservations to come in so we need to be back in shape.”

“I’ll see you guys in a little bit,” Felicity promised. “I need to make a phone call really quick.”

They headed back towards the ballroom and Felicity walked into the parlor. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed up Ray Palmer’s personal cell number. He’d be home celebrating Christmas with his fiancée Anna, but she also knew he’d answer her call. 

“Ray, hi… its Felicity,” she said when he picked up. 

“Felicity! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” he replied. She knew he didn’t mean just because it was Christmas. 

“I couldn’t just leave without talking to you.”

“But you _did_ leave,” he reminded her. 

Felicity thought back to the day before Christmas Eve. When Ray had told Felicity about the meeting being moved to Christmas Eve morning and how he needed her there for that, she’d tried to argue. She’d tried to reason things out and then she’d tried to explain to Ray why she needed to be in Starling. But Ray didn’t understand and she didn’t know how to explain it in a way that he _would_. She’d gone back to her lonely apartment that night and had ended up going back and forth in her mind on what she should do. She kept hearing Quentin’s voice in her mind, telling her that it was about her priorities. That’s how she’d ended up driving up to Starling in the early, early morning hours of Christmas Eve. 

“I did leave,” she replied. “And I’m not trying to take that back, Ray. I knew what I was doing.”

“I hate to lose you, Felicity,” Ray said. “You’re a valuable resource at the company. I’m not happy that you left but… maybe I get why you did it. A little bit. We can talk about it, if you want to?”

She sighed. “No, Ray. I think this had to be done. Everything that’s happening here in Starling is just the catalyst. I’ve loved working for Palmer Tech, but it’s time for me to do something different.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, Felicity,” he replied. “So there’s nothing I can say.”

“I’m afraid not. But I don’t want to lose your friendship, Ray. That’s why I’m calling.”

He sighed over the line. “No, you haven’t lost my friendship,” he told her. “I’m sad to lose you at he company, but I do care about you as a friend and that will always be true.”

“I can send you a list of candidates to consider replacing me with. I know all the best and most brilliant minds, you know.”

“I’d appreciate that, Felicity, thank you.”

She spoke to him for a few more minutes and by the time she hung up, Felicity felt better about things. She was still unemployed but it felt more like it was her own _choice_ now. She had understand with Ray and there were no hard feelings. Or at least not many hard feelings. 

“How are you holding up?”

Felicity whipped around and saw Quentin walking into the parlor. 

“Where’s my mom?” she asked, looking around him. 

“She’s coordinating with the cleaning crew in the ballroom,” he explained. “I wanted to come make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m… hanging in there,” she said, feeling more than a little shaky. 

“He’s… gone?” Quentin asked. 

“I think so,” she replied. “I was with him at midnight, but I fell asleep when the clock struck the hour. When I woke up this morning, the house was empty. I could _feel_ it.”

He nodded. “I’ve always just wanted for that poor man to be free.”

“That’s what I wanted too.”

“But… I am sorry for you, my dear,” he told her kindly. “I know you had feelings for him.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it. Just a few weeks ago, she would have without a second thought or hesitation. But now… she didn’t want to deny it. Oliver had changed her, even though it had ended so bittersweet. She wanted to honor that and recognize it and not be ashamed of it. 

“Yes, I did. And he had feelings for me too,” she revealed. 

Quentin’s eyebrows shot up. “He told you that?”

“He did. And I’ll treasure that memory for the rest of my life.”

Felicity quickly told him what had happened the night before with Tommy and learning that he killed Oliver and how the curse wasn’t even a curse after all. By the time she finished, his eyes were damp. He gave her a big hug. 

“Thank you for being there for him,” he told her. 

“I’m so glad I was.” She drew back. “I think I’m going to drive to Central City, pack up my apartment. I think I’ll be back here before New Years.”

“You’re welcome here anytime,” he told her. 

“Thank you, Quentin.”

Felicity went back up to her room and finished packing her suitcase. She still felt the grief but she also felt hope on that horizon. Her life wasn’t over… her life was just really starting. This was her opportunity and she never would have had that without Oliver. 

She said goodbye to her mother when she came back downstairs and promised she would be back as soon as she could. Maybe when she returned, she’d tell her mother about Oliver. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to tell her mom. But not until she was back. 

Felicity walked out of Verdant House, pulling her suitcase behind her. The sun reflecting off the snow was nearly blinding but it was gorgeous. She smiled and headed for her SUV. 

She’d just put the suitcase in the back of her vehicle when she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. 

In the woods, just beyond the border of the property, was a man tromping through the snow, pushing past the trees and undergrowth, the snow nearly up to his knees. She straightened and stared, her heart starting to race inside her chest. 

It _couldn’t_ be. 

She took a few steps towards the woods, her eyes focused on the figure. He was tall, wearing a long wool coat and a brimmed hat. She took a few more steps and the man cleared the woods, stepping into the clearing just behind the house. 

It was Oliver.

She broke into a run, not caring that her boots were more for looks and less for running through the snow. He began to run too, his grin wide and as breathtaking as the sun that was shining down on them. He threw his hat off just as she reached him and he grabbed her, pulling her up into a hug that crashed them together. 

He was _here_. 

He was holding her, crushing her against him and his breath was puffing into her hair. Felicity was sobbing as she held onto him tight, feeling how real and solid he was. “You’re here,” she kept repeating, over and over. 

“I’m here,” he agreed, finally pulling away so he could look at her. His hair was mussed from the hat, his cheeks pink from the cold, his breath fogging the air between them. His bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners from all the smiling he was doing. 

He was _here_. 

“I can’t believe it,” she breathed. “How are you here? Were you just beyond the border of the property?”

Oliver chuckled, tightening his arms around her. “All good questions and I expect nothing less from you. But first, I have to do something,” he said. 

Felicity was about to ask him what he needed to do when Oliver kissed her. It wasn’t like the kiss she’d given him before the dance last night, nor was it like the kiss they’d shared at midnight. That kiss had been soft and slow and sweet and full of all the emotions they were both feeling. That kiss had been a goodbye. 

This kiss was completely different. It was hard, and passionate and full of promise. It wasn’t a goodbye, it was a hello. Oliver cupped the back of her head, to control the depth of the kiss and he slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue brushing her lips and asking for entrance which Felicity was more than willing to grant. 

Felicity moaned into the kiss which made Oliver make the most amazing growling sound, deep in his throat. They kissed, their tongues stroking and their hands grasping one another and Felicity knew with stunning clarity that she could very easily kiss this man for the rest of her life if only he kept kissing her _just like this_. 

The world fell away, the snow, the inn, the cold, the sun, the blue sky… all that existed was the two of them, locked in this embrace, tasting on another and their souls making promises to one another. 

Finally, the need for oxygen became too great and they both pulled back, gasping for air. “Wow,” Felicity breathed. 

“Can we do that again?” he asked, just as breathless as she was. 

She grinned. “Yes, please.” 

This time, she met him halfway, rising up on her toes so far that she slipped a little on the ice and he had to wrap an arm around her back, pulling her against him and holding her up. They kissed until Felicity felt nearly giddy with it and despite the cold air around them, her body felt like it was on fire, ignited by his lips and his tongue and his touch. 

This time when he released her, she sagged against him and smiled dopily up at him. “I wanted to do that for so long,” she admitted. 

“The truth? I did too,” he told her. 

“How are you still here?”

“Twelve days wasn’t enough time to have with you,” he said earnestly. “I want more. I want _you_.”

Her knees literally felt weak at the conviction in his voice. “I want you too. Does this mean you get to stay?”

He smiled softly at her, righting her on her feet and making sure she was steady before he loosened his hold and brushed a stray tendril of hair away from her cheek. “It does,” he told her. 

“What happened?” she asked. “The last thing I remember is kissing you and the clock in the hall chiming…”

“You fell asleep. Or, at least I think it was sleep. It was deep and sudden and if I hadn’t seen you breathing freely, I would have panicked. I laid you down and… I saw Laurel. She told me that I was free. I could move on.”

“So… why are you still here?” Felicity asked. She was glad he was there, more glad than she could even say. 

“Moving on was what I’d wanted to for 95 years. But when Laurel told me I had a choice, I realized it wasn’t an obvious decision for me anymore. I had something here that I wanted just as much, if not more. I took a moment and I realized that my heart had changed. What I wanted was a second chance to live my life. The fact that I could have you in that life just made it all the more attractive to me,” he explained. 

“You chose to stay?” She could barely believe it. 

“I chose to stay. With you,” he answered. “If you’ll have me.”

Felicity threw her arms around his neck. “I’ll have you!” she cried. 

He kissed her again, and this time it was long and slow and sweet again, but it wasn’t a goodbye at all. It was perfect. 

“Do you think you can handle living in the twenty-first century?” she asked with a grin as they walked towards the house. 

“I can if you’re by my side to help me transition,” he replied. 

Felicity linked her arm through his. “That’s a deal, mister. Come on, let’s tell Quentin the good news and re-introduce you to my mother. Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! Quentin and my mother are buying the inn! Verdant House is going to remain open and operating.”

“That’s wonderful news!” He smiled. “I admit, I was worried about the inn.”

“I know we could find a place that fit us perfectly,” she agreed, “but I am glad that we’ll still have the ability to visit the inn.”

“I feel the same.”

They mounted the porch steps and Felicity squeezed Oliver’s hand and grinned. “Are you ready for the full strength of my mother?”

Oliver held open the back door for Felicity to walk through and then followed her. “Is she going to be upset that we lied about who I was?”

“I have no idea how she’ll take it,” she said honestly. 

Felicity didn’t think it was just her imagination that Oliver’s palm dampened where she held his hand. 

They found Quentin and Donna in the kitchen, chatting at the table over mugs of coffee. Both of them looked up, a little startled, when the two of them walked in. Quentin’s eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his head. 

“Oliver! You’re here!” he exclaimed, setting his mug down heavily and jumping to his feet. 

“Oliver?’ Her mother looked confused. “I thought you said his name was Jonas?”

Oliver looked very uncertain and Felicity gave him an encouraging smile. 

“Mom? This is Oliver Queen.”

The realization dawned slowly over her mother’s features. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an “o”. “Oliver as in… the man who owned this inn, the man who _died_?” She looked at Felicity and gave her a chastising look. “That’s not nice, Felicity. You don’t have to tease…”

“That is who I am, ma’am,” Oliver said. “I apologize for the subterfuge before; both Quentin and Felicity were endeavoring to protect my identity while we worked out my… circumstances.”

Donna looked at Oliver and she must have seen the sincerity in his eyes because she relaxed a little. But then she looked to Quentin and her eyebrows furrowed. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Donna. It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“There’s a story here, isn’t there?” she asked, looking suspicious. 

Felicity nodded. “There is. And we’ll tell you. But you need to promise to keep an open mind.”

“I’m interested to hear some of this story too,” Quentin added. “I want to know how you’re still _here_ , Oliver.”

Oliver relaxed and squeezed her hand. “It’s a miracle,” he said, looking down into her eyes. 

Felicity smiled back. “It sure is.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Autumn Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9424283) by [Sadfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadfangirl/pseuds/Sadfangirl)




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